


"The Measure of Our Achievements"

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Sentinels and Guides are known, sometimes it takes a deal of adversity before a reluctant Sentinel finally realises what he is missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"The Measure of Our Achievements"

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Artefact Storage Room 3 on 6 December 2011, this story like its sequel, 'Measuring Up' has been tidied up a little as part of a ongoing project to import my older stories to AO3.

“The Measure of Our Achievements”  


**By Katef November 2011.**  


**Part 1:**  


**Introduction: Santa Monica, CA:**  


Smiling happily to herself, Naomi Sandburg re-read her son’s latest email, thrilled at his news that he had been awarded his Master’s Degree in Anthropology by Rainier University, Cascade WA, and had already been accepted on the PhD programme. She couldn’t help the glow of pride she had in Blair’s achievements so far, despite several major drawbacks which would have derailed a lesser soul. 

Her brilliant son, having spent his early years travelling the world at her side (well, most of the time, unless left with various ‘friends’ on the occasions when she took a little down-time to herself) had finally declared his intention of settling in Cascade in order to study anthropology at Rainier University, having been accepted into the undergraduate programme at the tender age of sixteen years old. By age nineteen he had already received his Bachelor’s in Anthropology with a Psych minor, and now his Master’s at barely twenty one. 

Yes, she admitted to herself that she felt a pang of guilt both at the memory of leaving Blair-the-child behind at times while she travelled alone, and certainly after bidding Blair-the-adolescent goodbye at Rainier with no little relief, so sure was she that he would be able and happy to cope with his new life as a student without her. She was honest enough to recognise that she was more than a little self-centred, and not really ‘Mommy material’, but comforted herself with the fact that she truly adored her only child, and had been there for him when the need was greatest. 

She just wished sometimes that she could have answered his frequently-asked question regarding the identity of his natural father. 

Truth be told, she honestly wasn’t sure, and, at the time, the knowledge was of little importance to her. In her youth, when she and her many like-minded friends were whole-heartedly embracing the hippy movement and it’s culture of free love, drugs and music festivals, frankly none of them were feeling any pain, and even fewer ever revealed or acknowledged their real names. 

Even now, Naomi’s only regret was not on her own behalf, but for Blair’s sake. 

As a small child, he had so often come home from his most recent school, having been teased unmercifully, and suffering from other children’s cruelty when he was unable to explain who his father was. Trying so hard to hold back his tears, he had asked her what ‘bastard’ meant, and her heart broke a little as she was forced to explain it to him. 

On the occasion when she had had to explain what ‘whore’ meant, something inside Blair seemed to freeze, and he never asked her again about his father. 

Momentarily upset by the memory, she decided that there was no point in beating herself up about it now, and schooled herself to let it go. What was done was done: she had a beautiful and incredibly gifted son even if she didn’t know exactly who had fathered him, and was content to leave it at that. 

Quickly checking the time, and realising that she was going to be late for her date if she didn’t get a move on, she decided to leave responding to Blair’s message until tomorrow when she had more time to compose a proper reply rather than a hurried one or two liner. Logging off from her PC, she retired to her bathroom, intending to enjoy a lovely hot shower; already planning on her outfit for the evening. 

She was sure that her latest ‘amour’ would appreciate her favourite filmy, floating full-length dress and matching scarf, secure in the knowledge that her slender figure, striking red hair and arresting, elfin features were as attractive as ever despite the fact that she was now approaching forty years old.  


\-------------------------------  


**6 years later: Cascade Major Crimes Unit bullpen:**  


Blue eyes cold enough to freeze the blood, and snarling quietly but as effectively as his spirit animal, the black panther, Sentinel Detective Jim Ellison strode into the bullpen, hauling his cowering and cuffed captive along in his wake for booking and interrogation. Glancing up at his approach, his colleagues reacted with a variety of emotions ranging from cold indifference through disdain and dislike to downright nervousness. Few greeted him or even nodded in recognition since they were unsure of the buff detective’s response and not about to find out the hard way that he was having yet another bad day. 

As per usual, Jim couldn’t care less at their attitude, simply satisfied that he had managed to secure a definite lead towards closing yet another Major Crimes case and totally unconcerned as to whether his fellow detectives liked it or not. The small-time but slippery ‘entrepreneur’ in his clutches was well-known as an occasional messenger-cum-gofer for several of the larger gangs operating in the city, and therefore a potentially invaluable source of information as regards the latest gun-running operation centred in and around Cascade’s docklands. Jim was positive that with a little pressure – read ‘intimidation’ - the pathetic little worm would cave in and come up with some genuine goods, and the wrap up operation could be organised and set in motion in a matter of days now rather than weeks or months as previously conjectured. 

However, also as usual as an unbonded Sentinel, his headache was threatening to overwhelm him, and now his sense of smell was spiking, probably due to the fact that his captive positively reeked with fear and BO, and had pretty much wet himself at the moment of capture by this terrifying, super-fit and icily furious individual. 

Securing his suspect to the chair next to his desk before checking out the availability of the nearest interrogation room, Jim suddenly cocked his head as a thread of intoxicating scent wafted towards him, at the same time as his hearing checked in to the soft breaths and soothing heartbeat coming from a visitor in his Captain’s office. 

Spotting his preoccupation, even though she was certain her overture would be met yet again in rude rejection, Inspector Megan Connor – a visiting Australian police officer from New South Wales PD who was participating in an exchange programme – strolled over to perch a hip on Jim’s desk before addressing him cordially. 

“Hey, Jimbo! See you got Blackie at last. Any problems you need help with mate?” 

Turning his frowning regard on the attractive brunette Jim responded, “No, Connor! No problems; and I didn’t need your tender touch this time, OK?” 

Jim was referring to the unsatisfactory occasions when they had been paired together. To Jim’s intense aggravation and Megan’s reluctant acceptance, they had discovered that Megan had low-grade Guide ability, and therefore was able to provide a measure of grounding for the Sentinel in potentially dangerous circumstances. However, far from being grateful, Jim bitterly resented her sometimes heavy-handed methods of preventing him from zoning, so he attempted to freeze her out now so he could have done with interrogating and booking his captive and either go home or check out the fascinating presence in Captain Simon Banks’ office. 

“Fine, Jimbo! Have it your way! You, know, you could be just a tad more receptive to your fellow officers, mate. You might even find we’re not so bad to know, love. 

“Anyhow, suit yourself, and well done with the arrest anyhow, mate,” and she stood with a wry smile before turning away and making her way to her own desk where her usual partner, Joel Taggart, awaited her. 

The genial African American; who had been Captain of the Bomb Squad before transferring to Major Crimes following a crisis of confidence; smiled ruefully up at the Aussie, appreciating her attempt to come to an amicable understanding with the irascible Sentinel even if the rest of the unit had long ago given up on the notion. 

“You did your best, Megan,” he murmured softly, looking askance towards Jim’s desk. “But even I have to admit that it’s fighting a losing battle trying to get through to Jim these days. 

“I mean, we all know how hard it must be for him to manage without a Guide, but he simply doesn’t seem to want to know. It can’t go on...” and he shook his head sadly, genuinely concerned for his colleague, and wishing that Ellison would make some sort of effort to help himself. 

Grinding his teeth in frustration at the soft words, Jim still had enough decency to realise that the big man meant him no ill-will, but he was so stretched and stressed by the sheer continuous effort needed to control his wayward senses that he had no time for normal social interaction other than what was necessary for him to do his job. 

Sneering internally at the hint of self-pity in his reaction, he turned to his prisoner, intending to take him to the newly-vacant interrogation room, when he was halted by his Captain’s barked command. 

“Ellison! My office, now!” 

“Sir? What about Blackie here? I was just going to--” 

Shaking his head decisively, Simon Banks replied, “No, Jim. Megan and Joel will be taking over your case now. I want you to take on something else that the Mayor and Commissioner consider more pressing. 

“Now, if you don’t mind..?” he finished sarcastically as he stared down the bullpen at his openly irritated subordinate. 

Knowing that to prevaricate further would avail him nothing but more of his Captain’s impatient sarcasm, yet he still fumed as Joel and Megan approached, puzzlement on both their faces, as they looked from Simon Banks’ office to Jim and back. 

“Looks like you’re going to be getting to work with the new consultant, Jimbo,” mused Megan, glancing speculatively at the seated figure, whose back was turned to the bullpen. 

“Apparently he only arrived today, mate, so I can’t tell you anything about him, except that he’s a profiler of some sort. Haven’t met him myself, and he arrived while Joel and I were out and about, so that’s as much as I know.” 

She knew full well that Jim wouldn’t deign to discuss the issue any further with her, so she busied herself with taking charge of Jim’s suspect whilst Joel collected the file that Jim reluctantly handed over to him. 

Looking genuinely regretful, the older man said, “Thanks, Jim. We’ll do our best with this. I know how you prefer to see your cases through yourself.” 

Biting down hard on the temptation to snap at his colleagues, Jim had the decency to recognise that matter was a _fait accompli,_ and not of their making, so he controlled his natural urge to take his bad temper out on them, and simply nodded in mute acceptance as he turned his attention back to the Captain’s office, from where the tempting scent was growing stronger. 

Deliberately taking a few more seconds to get himself under some sort of control before entering Simon’s office, Jim straightened up a few files and items on his already immaculate desk, and turned to walk across the bullpen, back ramrod straight and looking every inch the military Captain he had once been, ignoring the patently speculative glances sent in his direction as he passed.  


\-------------------------  


Jim had always known he was a true Sentinel, with all five senses heightened to a remarkable degree, but he had never considered them to be a gift, but rather a curse as far as he was concerned. He was well aware that individuals such as he were prized in pre-industrialised cultures for their abilities as watchmen, scouts, protectors and so much more. Their contribution was also recognised in modern society, except that the natural genetic variation only occurred rarely these days, possibly because they weren’t needed or relied on to the same extent. Where they existed, however, they were generally welcomed with open arms, and tended to serve in various capacities such as in police and fire departments, the military, medicine or other such public services where maximum use could be made of their talents. 

However, these same individuals rarely worked alone as Jim did, as normally, when the senses came ‘on-line’, they made the effort to find a compatible partner or ‘Guide’. Someone who would work alongside the Sentinel to ground him or her and help the Sentinel to control excessive sensory input so that he or she wasn’t overwhelmed or incapacitated by one particular sense to the exclusion of everything else. A potentially dangerous fugue state usually referred to as a ‘zone’. 

In Jim’s case, he had managed to suppress his senses remarkably well for most of his life, not wishing to rely on or put up with some other individual encroaching on his space and fervently believing that having a Guide would be more trouble that it was worth. 

Everything had been pretty much fine and dandy until Jim, having recently transferred from Vice to Major Crimes, was involved in a case where a bomber called the Switchman began to target people and areas of Cascade, all the while blaming the resulting chaos on Jim himself. 

As it turned out, the ‘Switchman’ turned out to be the daughter of one of his men who had died during his last disastrous mission as an Army Ranger, when his helicopter had been shot down in Peru with the loss of all on board except Jim himself. When he was finally rescued eighteen months later after being taken in and cared for by the local tribe, he left the military on medical grounds, and joined Cascade PD where he had quickly gained his Detective’s Gold Shield, and soon had an arrest and conviction rate second to none. 

Meanwhile, however, Veronica Sarris, his dead friend’s daughter, had grown up convinced that Jim was responsible for her father’s death, and vowed that he would pay with his own, but not before he had been made to suffer the guilt of being unable to prevent the demise of innocent victims. During the case, Jim’s senses came back online with a vengeance, with disastrous results for the unbonded and unguided Sentinel. 

Although he finally managed to take Sarris down when he confronted her on a bus she had wired to blow, he was unable to control his reactions well enough to locate and defuse the on-board bomb in time, and several passengers were unable to escape the blast even though he was able to evacuate the majority. Jim found himself hailed as a hero, but couldn’t see himself in that role, convinced that he should have been able to control his senses better and rescue everyone on board. 

His bitterness grew as his senses became harder to manage, so that, by this stage, he had few colleagues left who cared to either work with him or even socialise with him as his temper was so uncertain and his sensory spikes threatened to immobilise him at the most inopportune moments. 

His Captain and friend Simon Banks was doing his best, but even he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that Jim would either have to find himself a Guide, and soon, or be put on medical leave until some other solution could be found, which would most likely entail having to leave the PD. 

One final opportunity had now presented itself, however, and Simon fervently hoped that there was one last chance for Jim, as long as the obstinate Sentinel could be persuaded to grasp it.  


\--------------------------  


This then was the state of affairs as Jim entered his Captain’s office, and took stock of the man seated in front of Simon’s desk. 

Even as he had approached the ‘inner sanctum’, Jim had been amazed to find that all his senses had evened out, and were at present functioning better than he could ever remember. Blissfully headache-free for once, he turned a full sensory scan on the youthful figure who had twisted round to grin up at him in unaffected welcome. 

Close to, the intoxicating aroma which had been tantalising Jim’s olfactory awareness ever since entering the bullpen became almost overwhelming. He savoured the light cedar scent mixed with herbal soap and shampoo, which combined with an underlying and totally addictive maleness strong enough for him to have to exercise rigid control so as not to leap on the young man and ravish him on the spot. 

He had already noted, with no little confusion, that he had instinctively memorised and monitored the other man’s heartbeat, and found himself tuned in to every physical response as the young man squirmed slightly under his narrow-eyed regard. 

The young man’s hair was rather longer than he would have expected in a police consultant, but certainly suited him, being a dark auburn in colour, and very curly. The face was exceptionally beautiful in a masculine way, with high cheekbones, a small, neat nose, enormous deep blue eyes with obscenely long lashes under expressive eyebrows and a lush-lipped mouth Jim found himself longing to sample. 

Although the scan had taken mere moments, Simon coughed pointedly to attract his Detective’s attention, frowning at Jim’s overt interest in his visitor and aware of said visitor’s growing discomfort. 

Snapping back to attention, Jim shook himself minutely, furious with himself over the lapse and determined to get himself back under control. 

“Right then. Introductions are in order, I think,” muttered Simon gruffly, frowning at his distracted detective. 

“Detective Jim Ellison, meet our new consultant profiler, Dr Blair Sandburg. Don’t let his youth fool you, Jim. Dr Sandburg comes with an exceptional record from working with other PDs and the FBI. He has impressive academic qualifications, and underwent training in profiling at Quantico, so we’re lucky to be able to call on his expertise. And that’s why you’re both here. 

“We have a case which will take priority over all else you have on the go at the moment, Jim, even though it’s only just been kicked up to us from Vice. 

“On the face of it, there’s been a series of rapes over the last three months, which Vice has been working as a potential serial case based on the MO. Thing is, there’s no common denominator amongst the victims – well, not one that’s been recognised as yet,” and he cast an apologetic glance at Dr Sandburg. 

“However, the most recent victim was the Mayor’s niece, apparently abducted after attending a girls’ night out at one of Cascade’s better-known night-clubs, so he’s got the bit between his teeth and is insisting that MCU takes on the case. His friend the Commissioner is fully in agreement, so there we are, gentlemen. 

“An appropriate time for you to join us, Dr Sandburg!” and he smiled a little wolfishly at the young man in question. 

Offering the Captain a gentle smile in return, Blair replied after half-turning to include Jim in his response. 

“Thank you, Captain Banks. I’m glad to be here, although I didn’t expect to be needed so quickly,” he said, with a slightly apologetic tone and somewhat self-conscious blush. 

“Captain Sullivan from Vice had already sent me what information they had available before I arrived in Cascade, knowing that I would be working here at the PD for the foreseeable future, so I have a small amount of data to work from. 

“However, I should prefer to effectively start from scratch if I’m to be paired with Detective Ellison. I find it’s always better to at least try to pursue a case without prior input if possible--” 

But here he was cut short by Jim’s growled response as he glared from Simon to Blair and back. 

“Oh no, Captain! I don’t work with a partner unless forced to, and then only someone who’s useful in the field. I’ll gladly discuss the case with DOCTOR Sandburg,” he continued, making the title almost an insult. “But he doesn’t ride with me...Sir!” 

“Now hold on Ellison! Just a minute there, Detective! If I say you work with Dr Sandburg, then you WORK with the man, and if that entails him riding with you when necessary, then that’s what’ll happen! 

“This isn’t all about you, Ellison. We have a serious case here needs solving, and you’ll work with whom I tell you! You with me, Detective?” 

As Jim visibly tensed before retaliating furiously, a quiet exclamation from the young consultant grabbed both of the bigger men’s attention and they turned their questioning gaze on the smaller man. 

Blair had paled noticeably at the angry interchange, feeling both anger at the big detective’s belligerent and uncalled-for attitude towards him and a certain amount of shame, as if he was some sort of useful but unwanted toy which neither one was about to own. He had frequently come across this attitude in other PDs, well used now to the faintly disrespectful and frankly disbelieving looks his appearance engendered at first meetings, but bolstered by the fact that his notable success rate normally reversed the negative opinions by the time he left those departments. 

However, it never failed to hurt, and he was especially disappointed on this occasion because he had found his interest immediately piqued by the big, buff Ellison, to whom he had felt a strong attraction even before they were introduced. 

Fighting to keep the upset from his face, even though he was pretty sure it was a lost cause, he said firmly nevertheless, “Detective Ellison. I realise that you prefer to work alone – Captain Banks has already brought me up to speed on that. I’m afraid though that in this instance I have to insist. 

“I know I could be a liability when it comes to fieldwork, but in order to get the optimum benefit from pertinent information, I have to see it firsthand. Experience it, if you will. 

“I have a high empathy rating, which is one of the reasons I make a successful profiler, but I cannot use my ability to the full if bound to a desk. 

“Although I’m sure you won’t believe it right now, I also think I can help you, Detective. Before I changed my PhD subjects to Forensic Psychology and Profiling, I majored in Anthropology, and did my Master’s degree in Sentinel Studies. 

“I can help you, Detective,” he finished softly, but with a degree of sincerity and resolve with which Jim wouldn’t have credited him. 

Nevertheless, Jim was too angry with the situation in general to react with anything less than sarcasm, saying, “I don’t think so, Chief! The last thing I need is some hippy academic trailing around after me. I need someone I can trust to cover my back, not lecture me in social sciences!” 

Quickly averting his gaze from the devastated expression on the beautiful face - unaccountably feeling suddenly small and mean as if he had kicked a puppy - he addressed Simon again. 

“I’m sorry, Captain, but this isn’t going to work! I’m not a baby-sitter, sir. I need to work on my own!” 

Glaring from Jim to the pale young man and back, Simon decided abruptly that enough was enough, and he had more than his fill of Jim’s attitude. 

“You WILL work with Dr Sandburg, and you WILL apologise for your appalling manners, Detective Ellison! If you can’t handle the case, I’ll put Rafe and H on it. They don’t have a problem with working with a proven expert, and they’ll appreciate the experience. 

“You, on the other hand, can consider yourself on permanent desk duty until you get yourself under control, or get yourself a Guide! I’ve had enough, Ellison, and this is your last chance!” 

As he spoke, his voice rose in volume until he finished in a bellow of real fury, enough to silence all conversation in the bullpen. 

Jim held his captain’s blazing gaze for long moments until common sense finally kicked in, and he responded in a clipped tone, albeit with bad grace. “Sir, yes, sir! I understand. I’ll work with Dr Sandburg if that’s what it takes to stay in the field. 

“But I would like it on record that I am not happy with the situation, sir!” 

Heaving a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment at Jim’s half-hearted capitulation, Simon replied, “I think that goes without saying, Jim. Duly noted. 

“Now, perhaps you’ll take Dr Sandburg to one of the conference rooms or somewhere quiet where you can both take a look at the files Vice has sent up, and see if you can come to some working arrangement,” and he sat down at his desk and picked up a few papers to scan in obvious dismissal as Jim and Blair looked at each other and then at the door. 

With barely contained civility, Jim said, “After you, Dr Sandburg,” indicating the door, only to be completely taken aback once again when the young man rose to his feet. 

Standing carefully, Blair grasped the heavy walking stick lying beside his chair which Jim had completely failed to notice, and stood for a moment plainly favouring stiffened muscles in preparation for walking. 

Despite his sensory scan, Jim had been too preoccupied with his instinctive attraction to the smaller man to register the fact that the consultant’s right leg and hip were noticeably twisted as a result of some serious accident. However, he was now easily able to pick up the evidence of major surgery in the minute sounds generated by several plates inserted into the broken bones, audible only to sentinel ears. 

Initially too shocked to utter another word at Simon’s telling glance, Jim simply stood aside and let the smaller man exit the office in front of him before rounding on his captain once again. He opened his mouth to respond in incredulity only to have his comments instantly sabotaged as Simon growled almost _sotto voce,_ “Not a word, Ellison! Not another word! That boy’s worth his weight in gold if his record is even half as good as what other departments say it is. 

“You will NOT hold his disability against him, you hear? You will _listen_ and you will _learn,_ and you will _protect_ him, Sentinel! 

“Dismissed!” 

And Jim could do nothing but nod in reluctant obedience to his orders. 

\----------------------  


As Jim exited the office and made his way to his desk where the profiler was awaiting him, he fought hard to control the emotions swirling around in his head at the bizarre situation in which he found himself. Watching the young man’s movements from behind, he could see that, although the limp was fairly severe, Blair’s overall mobility wasn’t too bad. 

However, Jim could easily discern now the traces of stress etched on the attractive face not visible in repose, and supposed that the doctor lived in a state of perpetual discomfort of varying levels depending on tiredness or overuse of his damaged limb. 

Biting down on his automatic burst of sympathy, Jim schooled himself to ignore his softer feelings towards the profiler, not wanting to encourage any sort of rapport outside of a working arrangement despite his initial attraction. He still felt the same way about securing a permanent Guide, so if Sandburg could help him during this case on a superficial level, all well and good, but it didn’t mean that Jim wanted to pursue a deeper relationship. 

No, Jim had no intention of tying himself to a disabled man, however beautiful, and especially a curly-haired neo-hippy type who would probably move on to another PD as soon as his stint in Cascade was over. 

It surprised him therefore when he was beset by a strong feeling of possessiveness when he saw Joel approach the young man and engage him in cordial conversation, and he definitely refused to acknowledge the pang of jealousy that shot through him when Blair beamed at the big Captain, answering him cheerfully and plainly winning the other man over with unconscious ease. 

However, just as Jim closed in on the pair, and before he could butt in on the conversation – and probably make an ass of himself in the doing, truth be told – Simon Banks’ pretty blonde secretary Rhonda headed him off as she informed him that she had put the relevant case files from Vice in the conference room ready for his attention. Suitably distracted from his target, Jim nodded at Rhonda in abstracted acknowledgement and, turning towards the room in question, barked, “You coming Dr Sandburg? We’ve got files to check out,” before heading off without waiting for a response. 

Watching Jim’s retreating back; Blair was left open-mouthed in hurt bewilderment at the detective’s surly tone, and was unable to mask the emotion on his expressive face quickly enough to prevent Joel from seeing it. 

As the older man patted Blair’s shoulder in sympathy, he murmured, “Don’t worry Doctor. It’s not just you, truly. We all get treated to varying degrees of sullen Ellison these days, I’m afraid. Comes with the territory of being an unbonded Sentinel! It’s not your fault, son,” and he smiled wryly at the younger man. 

“Thanks, Captain Taggart. It just took me by surprise is all? It’s not like I know the detective yet...” and he tailed off a little uncertainly as he heard the conference room door slam harder than was necessary behind the angry man, who had undoubtedly overheard Taggart’s words. 

“Sure, son, and it’s Joel, OK? No need to be formal around me!” and he grinned amicably at Blair. 

Returning the smile with genuine appreciation, Blair responded in kind. “Thanks, Joel, and please call me Blair. I still get a bit uncomfortable with the ‘Doctor Sandburg’ bit! But I guess I’d better get a move on before Detective Ellison gets even more mad at me...” he finished, face taking on the worried expression again as he took his leave of Joel and limped rather uncertainly towards the conference room. 

Taking a deep breath and a second or two to centre himself, Blair pushed open the door and made his way to the nearest chair where he could settle himself before the files scattered on the tabletop. Working hard at keeping his expression calm and businesslike he said quietly, “I suggest that we work through the files individually for as long as it takes, Detective, and then pool our ideas at the end of the session. 

“I always think that brain-storming should only come after we have all the relevant information don’t you think?” 

And he deliberately pulled the nearest file towards him without waiting for Jim’s response, all business as he took out a pair of wire-framed spectacles and trying very hard to delay the next point of conflict for as long as possible. 

Frowning in consternation, Jim was uncomfortably aware of the changes in the young man’s tantalising scent: a sour taint of distress coupling with the tang of pain combining to mar the addictive aroma. 

Guiltily aware that he was much to blame for the profiler’s discomfort, he confined his usual snippy response to a simple, “Sure, Chief. Whatever you suggest,” before lowering his head to study his own file, thus missing the surprised glance Sandburg threw at him. 

A couple of hours later saw the two men sit back in their respective seats, having waded their way through every bit of available information. Blair’s spot was surrounded with notes scribbled on sheets torn from his notebook, yet the Sentinel could see that there was method in the young man’s apparent madness. 

Running his hand through his unruly curls, Blair finally spoke out, saying, “Well, we certainly have something to work with here, and I have to say that the MO points to something very familiar. But before I start spouting off, would you like to start the ball rolling detective? After all, this is your PD and investigation.” 

Unsure exactly what the profiler was hinting at, but willing to take a chance, Jim started slowly, gathering speed as his thoughts solidified into a workable theory. 

“Hmmm, well.... As far as the individual cases are concerned, I’m bothered about the length of time taken to connect them all. For instance, the first case is dated at more than three months ago, but little progress seems to have been made. 

“The next couple are about ten days or so apart, but still apparently under the radar as regards a serial rapist spree. 

“It’s only when we get to the last three that not only does the perp seem to be escalating his attacks but the targets seem to be changing...” and he sat back with a perplexed expression marring his handsome features. 

Nodding in agreement as Jim continued to speak; Blair pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before turning his inquisitive gaze on Jim, plainly fully engaged in the detective’s words. 

“I think you’re right, Detective. I think you’ve hit the nail on the head as regards the escalating timescale, and also, sad to say, you’ve picked up on the telling issue of lack of progress in the early cases. 

“As far as I can see, although the MO remains comparatively unchanged, the perp seems to be going ‘up-market’ in his victims, and growing more confident each time. 

“The two early on are both prostitutes, and, although I hate to have to say it, low on the Vice unit’s scale of priorities, which is why such a long time elapsed before they were considered as part of a series. 

“Please don’t get me wrong, Detective Ellison,” he added hastily as Jim’s eyes narrowed at his words, “But I’m afraid that it’s a fact with every PD I’ve worked with so far that working girls – and boys – are very rarely taken seriously if they cry ‘rape’. It’s the nature of the beast, I guess, in departments strapped for cash and manpower. 

“Anyhow, someone in your Vice department has connected the dots, and given us the probable first victims of a perp who is growing more and more confident and complacent as he progresses.” 

As Jim sat back, eyebrow raised inquisitively, Blair swallowed hard and continued his line of thought. 

“Right. Well. At this point I’m thinking that the victim’s identity and social standing is of secondary importance to our perp. He only sees them as the next – possibly more challenging – target, and thus worthy of his time. 

“The prostitutes were for practice. By the time he got to the Mayor’s niece, his confidence in his capability was pretty solid. What I’m most concerned about now is that his next challenge could be permanently maiming or even killing his victims. 

“And I’ve come across something very similar before, I’m afraid...” and his voice tailed off as he stared at the desktop for long moments before visibly gathering himself together and reengaging Jim’s frowning gaze. 

“OK, Chief,” replied Jim, impressed despite himself at Sandburg’s words. “I suppose the next step is for you to write out a preliminary profile, but before you do, I’m thinking that you could do with something to eat and a decent coffee,” but he had no intention of letting on to the younger man as to how he had come to that conclusion. 

Blair didn’t need to know yet that Jim could ‘read’ his physical responses so well already that he had noted the slightly sour taint to the young man’s breath denoting hunger, and could easily pick up on the soft grumbling of a tummy in need of sustenance. 

Reluctantly acknowledging that Jim was correct, and just beginning to feel slightly light-headed having forgotten to have any breakfast in his eagerness to get to the PD, Blair bit his lip in mild embarrassment before nodding in agreement. 

“Sure, Jim. What did you have in mind? I don’t suppose the PD has anything resembling edible food, does it?” and he grinned happily at Jim’s first unaffected response as his companion replied. 

“You’ve got to be kidding, Chief! Not only can you NOT find anything ostensibly organic in this building’s snack machines, but the coffee stinks also, so I think I should take you out for lunch, if that’s OK with you?” 

And at Blair’s enthusiastic nod, they both got to their feet, and Jim surprised himself by waiting more or less patiently for the younger man to gather his walking stick and get mobile, assuring the profiler that his backpack and the files and notes would be perfectly safe in the room, since Rhonda had given him the key.  


\------------------  


Fully intending to make this a ‘working lunch’, Jim suggested that they go to Barney’s Bar just down the block from the PD. Popular with cops, the Irish themed bar provided decent home-cooked meals as well as a range of ales, both local and imported, and also had booths where a certain amount of privacy could be had so that casework could be discussed without being overheard. 

Agreeing with alacrity, Blair followed Jim to the elevator, suddenly aware that the big man was deliberately shortening and slowing his stride to accommodate his companion’s limp. Feeling a glow of warmth towards the detective for the consideration, Blair smiled up at the taller man as they stepped in, only for Jim to give him a puzzled look in response. 

“Something wrong, Chief?” 

“Er, um, no, Detective. That is, I was just thinking that it was good of you to wait for me. I mean, I know I don’t move too fast....” 

Uncomfortable with the young man’s obvious gratitude, Jim retreated into surliness as he replied, “Oh. Right. Well, it’s no big deal, Doctor, so don’t get all hung up on it,” and felt like a heel yet again as Sandburg’s face fell at the rebuff and he looked down at his shoes for the rest of the trip down to the lobby. 

As they stepped out of the elevator and exited the building, Jim suddenly thought to ask, “Hey, doc. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but will you be able to walk to the bar? It’s only just down the block,” and he pointed down the street. 

Looking up at him, face still clouded with a touch of embarrassment, Blair replied firmly, “Yes, Detective. I can manage.” However, he glanced away again as he admitted softly, “But I do have a wheelchair in my car just in case I overdo it,” and he blushed anew, wondering why the other man made him feel so self-conscious all of a sudden. 

It was a sad fact that he had always lacked self-confidence, but his formidable intellect had buffered him to a certain extent, at least until his handicap let him down as it was wont to do on occasion. However, Jim Ellison seemed to bring out the small hurt child in him for some reason, and the realisation made him both angry and embarrassed, especially since the man looked like a Greek god with his buff physique and patrician features. If it wasn’t for the attitude, Blair knew he could really get to like the man, and the physical attraction was a given. 

He was distracted from his musing as Jim simply nodded and said, “OK, then, doc. Let’s go. I can hear your stomach rumbling from here!” 

But what was meant to be a gentle jibe came out instead as a criticism and Jim could have kicked himself as his companion’s lips thinned in a grimace as a wounded expression flashed swiftly across the mobile features. Sighing in exasperation, Jim simply took the smaller man’s elbow and steered him gently towards the bar, keeping his thoughts to himself until they pushed through the swing doors. 

He certainly wasn’t about to mention the electric tingle the touch had sent coursing through him, straight to his groin, and instead guided the smaller man over to a booth in the corner of the bar and got him settled before asking what he would like to drink. 

Having felt a variation of the same current, Blair swallowed hard and took a moment to centre himself before saying, “Just a soda, please, detective. I won’t be able to concentrate if I have alcohol this early.” 

“You got it, Chief. Same goes for me. I’ll grab a couple of menus also, although I think I already know what I’ll be having,” and he headed back to the bar to give himself time to settle himself again and get a grip on his unruly libido. 

Having brought the drinks back to the table, Jim handed over one of the menus before saying, “Look, doc. Since we’re going to be working together for a while, you might as well drop the ‘Detective’ and just call me Jim, OK?” and he was almost knocked sideways at the beaming smile Sandburg threw in his direction. 

“Sure, Jim! I’m all for informality where it’s appropriate! Now, what do you suggest is good in here?” and he looked inquisitively from Jim to the menu and back. 

“Well, the burgers are great here, so I’m going to have one with the works,” replied Jim. 

“Oh man! All that artery-hardening grease! Why don’t you just inject it straight into your veins, man!” chuckled Blair, eyes twinkling in mirth. 

Grinning despite himself, Jim replied, “Yeah, but that wouldn’t be nearly so enjoyable, Chief! So what are you going to have? Leaves?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes, probably,” said Blair unrepentantly. “I’ll have a Caesar salad. And the soup, I think. It says it’s homemade.” 

“Sure is, Chief. I’ve had it before on occasion, and it’s pretty good.” 

Just then the waitress came over, so they placed their orders, and settled back to wait, filling in the time with general conversation as they didn’t want to continue discussing the case until after the food arrived. Discovering that they both enjoyed basketball, they discussed the Jags’ chances of making the playoffs this season for a while, then Jim decided to do a little investigating into his new temporary partner. 

“So, doc, what made you specialise in profiling? I thought Simon said you got your Masters in anthropology?” 

Biting his lip a little in consternation at the change in topic, Blair decided he might as well answer, thinking that a potted version would satisfy the detective in Ellison, and prevent him from digging too deeply into a painful past. 

“Well, I admit anthropology was my first love, and I got my Bachelor’s in it with a minor in psych. I’d also begun my Master’s programme, when I was invited on an expedition to South America, and this happened,” he said with a grimace of disgust, tapping his crippled leg. “I was able to complete the Master’s, but there’s little call for lame anthropologists, so I knew I’d have to change subjects for my doctorate. 

“And circumstances conspired to make my choice for me,” he continued quietly. “After all, I already had that minor in psych, and the Forensic Profiling just fell into place,” and he finished with a small smile, hoping that Jim would leave well alone now. 

No such luck, however. The older man’s interest was piqued at what his young companion didn’t say, so he probed further. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, Chief, how did you get hurt?” 

Sighing, and realising he wasn’t going to escape so easily, Blair replied succinctly, “Got swept down a mountainside in a mud slide two weeks’ into the expedition. I had to be carried out of the jungle, which wasn’t pleasant, but at least the surgeons managed to save my leg, so it could have been worse.” 

“So how old were you when it happened, doc?” queried Jim, thinking that Sandburg must be several years older than he had first thought. 

“Nineteen,” came the surprising reply. “I’d just started my Masters programme....” Then, seeing the bemused look on Jim’s face he continued, “Hey, it’s no big deal! It’s just that I started at Rainier at sixteen, you see? So I managed to complete my Masters by the time I was twenty one, with time out for recuperation, and was able to pursue the doctorate more or less from the office – or wheelchair,” he added softly, face reflecting a sadness Jim longed to remove even though he had no idea where that feeling came from. 

Just then their meals arrived, so they waited until the waitress had moved away before tucking in to the remarkably good food with gusto. 

A short while later, having come up for air, Jim resumed his questioning, knowing that there was much more to the younger man than he was letting on. “How come you ended up training at Quantico, doc? I thought you had to enrol as an agent or something.” 

“Um, no. I could hardly do that under the circumstances,” replied Blair with a wry grin. “I was invited by one of my external tutors who liked my work and thought I had a lot of potential for criminology. Obviously I’m not an FBI agent _per se_. I just did part of my practical training there.” 

“Riiight. Sort of a gifted amateur then,” said Jim somewhat dismissively, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised when an expression of pure hurt flashed briefly across Blair’s face before being swiftly blanked as the younger man pushed away his half-eaten salad, appetite gone. 

All business again, Blair said crisply, “I guess it’s time to get back to work, Detective. If you’ve had enough, that is?” and he signalled the waitress for the check without waiting for Jim’s response. 

Realising that he’d over-stepped the mark yet again, Jim had the decency to hold his tongue for once, and, picking up the smaller man’s walking stick as Blair signed for the meal, simply fished out a few dollars for the tip and waited for Blair to slide himself somewhat stiffly out of the booth before handing over his cane. 

The return trip to the PD was as silent as the first, except that this time Blair’s harsher breathing and more rapid heartbeat testified to the amount of discomfort he was now in, although he was doing his best to disguise the fact. His natural and intoxicating scent was also off, and there was nothing he could do about that, even if he had been aware of it. Sentinel senses weren’t to be fooled, however, and Jim ground his teeth together in self-condemnation knowing that Sandburg’s pain wasn’t all physical, and accepting the fact that he had once again been the cause. 

He simply couldn’t understand why, when he found the guy so attractive - and, indeed, fascinating and personable - he kept going for the jugular at almost every opportunity. Sandburg sure didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t doing Jim’s guilty conscience any favours either. 

Making a firm decision to keep everything between them purely professional from now on, he strolled easily alongside the smaller man, automatically monitoring his condition and keeping a watchful eye out for trouble, but strictly as a responsible Sentinel should, or so he told himself.  


\--------------------------  


Meanwhile, Blair was lost in thought as he walked, trying to keep his mind off Jim and his attitude, but finding himself remembering instead parts of his past he would rather keep locked firmly away. Cursing Ellison for his prodding and poking, which had stirred up memories he really could do without right now, he kept his head down and tried hard to regulate his breathing as best he could. 

What he had no intention of revealing to the other man was that he had a very personal reason for becoming a profiler, and it wasn’t simply because he had a secondary interest in psychology, either. 

Thinking back to the aftermath of his accident, when he had been in despair as to how he could afford to continue at Rainier, or even take care of himself, he recalled how he had finally contacted his mother as a last resort. Despite his incredulity, knowing how much Naomi cherished her freedom, she came through for him, arriving in Cascade in a swirl of maternal concern. She had thrown herself into caring for her beloved son, nursing him as required and acting as cheerleader or spiritual counsellor as appropriate as he struggled to regain his mobility. In what was for her probably approaching a record stay in one place, she remained with him for nearly a year until she was certain he could once again manage by himself, then, carrying his heart-felt love and gratitude with her, once more detached with love, and went her own way again. 

They kept in close contact through emails and phone calls as he worked his way through his Master’s thesis, and he knew she had settled temporarily in Santa Monica, where she was enjoying both the California climate and another new man friend. 

However, on the day he contacted her to tell her the good news that he had been awarded his Master’s Degree, she went out on a date, and never returned. 

He later found out that she had been found wandering aimlessly along the beach in the early hours of the morning, totally lost within her own mind, and exhibiting all the signs of a savage assault and rape. It turned out that she had been drugged with Rohypnol, the date-rape drug, and also beaten so severely around the face and head that her amnesia was total, and she had no idea who she was or where, or even her age. 

Indeed, it was considered to be something of a miracle that she had survived at all. 

A devastated Blair travelled to California as best he could, only to be told that there was little hope for her recovery, and that she should go into long-term residential care. Luckily, the sympathetic physician who had been tending Naomi had a brother who ran such an establishment, and he pulled strings to get Naomi admitted as soon as possible. Naturally, such a place didn’t come cheap, but Naomi had enough in a small trust fund left to her by her estranged and now deceased parents to pay for a few years’ care. 

However, Blair knew that it was incumbent on him to find the means to continue the payments once her fund ran out, so he had thrown himself into a new doctoral programme, not only so he could start earning enough money to support them both as soon as possible, but also because of the deep anger he felt at the fact that the rapist was never arrested. Knowing that a career as a police officer was out of the question on account of his lameness, even as he admitted to himself that carrying a gun would have posed a serious problem for him, yet he realised that his empathic gift might well provide him with the basis for a career as a forensic profiler, and that had indeed turned out to be the case. 

Although it had only been a few years since he received his PhD and completed a rigorous training course at the FBI’s Behavioural Science Unit at Quantico – minus the physical aspect of course – he had already earned a considerable reputation as a visiting private consultant profiler with marked successes at several PDs in the Pacific North West. 

Nevertheless, he still found it difficult to make ends meet on the somewhat irregular payments he received on a self-employed basis, so he had returned to Cascade to take up an offer made by his old friend and mentor, Dr Eli Stoddard. Stoddard wanted Blair to teach a few undergraduate classes in Rainier’s Anthropology Department and also run some seminars for post-grad students interested in looking at a career in profiling. With a regular stipend from that source, at least he knew he wouldn’t starve between casework even though it was a punishing routine when he was forced to juggle both at the same time. 

But if he could save others from the same fate as Naomi, it was all worth it.  


\---------------------  


As they reached the PD’s main entrance, this last thought brought an involuntary sob to Blair’s throat, although he stifled it immediately. 

However, Sentinel hearing picked it up easily, and Jim glanced quickly at his smaller companion’s lowered head. “You OK, Chief?” he enquired, despite his intention to remain aloof. 

But Blair was in no mood to be belittled again by the older man, so he looked up to meet the other’s gaze, keeping his expression set and cold as he replied, “Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Detective,” and he faced front again, and pushed through the doors to make his way back to the elevator. 

_Well, that put me in my place!_ Jim thought to himself. _But you can hardly blame the poor kid after what I’ve put him through since we met. Good going, Ellison!_

And he smiled wryly as he followed the slender figure hurrying across the lobby as fast as he physically could, only for the smile to morph into a frown of concern as he registered the barely-visible tremors of tension coursing through the slight frame.  


\------------------------  


By the time the pair reached the conference room, Blair had got himself and his emotions under control, and was once again ready to continue working on his profile. As Jim took his seat on the opposite side of the table, Blair buried himself in his work, keeping all communication between himself and Ellison professional and businesslike, and careful to focus purely on the case. 

As he pulled together all the relevant information for his preliminary draft, Blair couldn’t help but feel that there was a substantial amount lacking, and that his initial interpretation was incomplete. He was still convinced that the perp was gaining in confidence and violence, but felt that the known victims were possibly only the tip of the iceberg. He needed to run his ideas by Jim, instinctively certain that the detective could be trusted to be objective where police work was concerned. 

Decision made, he glanced up from the file in front of him, a perplexed expression on his face as he addressed his companion thoughtfully. 

“The first two women were only considered to be victims because they had someone to report the attacks, is that right? I mean, it says here that the first was reported by her roommate, and the second by her pimp...and even then the reports weren’t given much credence before the perp moved more up-market.” 

When Jim responded positively, if somewhat unhappily, he continued, “But what about ones who didn’t have anyone to look out for them? Girls who work the streets without backup are at the bottom of the food chain as far as prostitution is concerned. No-one would take them seriously, especially if they weren’t averse to a bit of ‘rough trade’. 

“I’m getting the feeling that there might have been a lot more ‘practice’ involved which we’ll probably never get to know about, but all of which makes this perp even more dangerous. I think he’s been refining his techniques for quite some time now. For much longer than previously conjectured. 

“As I see it, he picks all his victims up in bars or clubs, where it’s easy to spike their drinks and most likely either too crowded or anonymous for anyone to take much notice when he leaves with them. He’ll have chosen his venues carefully to match the particular type of victim he has targeted. As for the actual assaults, though, the violence is definitely escalating, as is the frequency, so that by the time the Mayor’s niece was attacked two days’ ago, she was beaten severely enough to knock her out, and that was despite drugging her first. 

“I’m certain he’s going to kill soon, Jim. I think he’s got the taste for it now, and he’s arrogant enough to believe he’ll get away with it.” 

Fixing Jim with a troubled gaze, he waited for the other man’s reaction, willing him to agree with his proposition with a depth of need that surprised him. As Jim’s eyes met his, Blair was relieved to see the acceptance in the ice blue gaze and he relaxed slightly despite his rigidly-controlled attempt at emotional neutrality. 

Fully aware of the younger man’s discomfort, and not happy with being the cause if it to a great extent, Jim was still impressed by Blair’s intuitive insight and was prepared to give his suggestions due consideration. 

“OK, Chief. I can see where you’re going with this, and I think you could well be right about earlier anonymous victims. If you’ll give me your preliminary profile, I’ll go over it now if you like.” 

With a genuine smile, Blair handed over the rough draft. “I’ll be sure to complete a proper version tonight,” he said, “but I have to leave soon or I’ll be late for my seminar at Rainier. Here you go....” 

Puzzled at Blair’s words, but already reaching for the paper, Jim turned his attention to the profile. 

Very briefly, Sandburg had described the perp as being a white male in his late twenties to early thirties. He would be soft-spoken, not intimidating in his approach, and charming enough to allay his victims’ suspicions. He would be pleasant looking, but unmemorable; strong enough, but not overly large or muscled since his success depended on his ability to blend in with his surroundings whatever the venue. 

Blair also asserted that he was above-average intelligence, and would probably hold some sort of moderately responsible and well-paid position at work, perhaps as some sort of middle manager or salesperson. He would also keep himself to himself to a great extent, not mixing too much with his colleagues at social activities, but not stimulating their interest at all either, content to stay under the radar for the most part. 

He also suggested that the perp either still lived at home with his mother, or she was recently deceased, and that their relationship was far from that of a loving mother / son which could well contribute to his low opinion of women. 

Looking up from his perusal of the report, Jim nodded his approval, conceding that the profiler made a good case. “OK, doc. I’ll buy it,” he said, gratified to see a spark of real pleasure in the younger man’s beautiful baby blues. “But where are you dashing off to now? What’s that about a seminar?” 

“I have to get to Rainier,” explained Blair, worry clouding his face as he assumed that the detective was about to criticise him again. “I don’t earn enough with free-lance profiling, so my old mentor at Rainier offered me a part-time teaching position. I’ve got a seminar in an hour, and a class later on tomorrow morning, but I’ll get the final draft done, I promise you, and I’ll be here first thing in the morning to present it...” he tailed off, annoyed with himself at the faintly apologetic tone. 

“OK, Sandburg, I wasn’t getting at you,” Jim hastened to reassure him. “You need a lift?” 

Smiling in relief, Blair replied, “No, thanks all the same, detective. I’ve got my van parked downstairs, and I don’t want to put you out. I’ll be going straight home afterwards anyway so I can get this done,” and he stood carefully, and began to stuff all his notes and files into his backpack. 

Nodding his farewell, he limped out of the conference room and headed for the elevator to the underground parking lot, unaware of Jim’s frowning regard as the detective rose to his feet, fully intending to follow the other man to Rainier in the hope of doing a little more digging into the fascinating young man’s past.  


\-------------------------------  


If Jim felt guilty at tailing his new partner as if he was some kind of suspect, he salved his conscience by telling himself that he just wanted to find out more about the enigmatic young man and preferred to do it clandestinely for now, seeing as all his attempts at conversation so far seemed to end up hurting the poor guy’s feelings. 

He couldn’t quite prevent the amused grin from breaking out on his face when he got an eyeful of Blair’s vehicle as it left the underground garage. The profiler had converted an old green VW microbus to accommodate him as a disabled driver, and for wheelchair access when necessary. To Jim’s experienced eyes (and ears) the exterior looked a bit scruffy, but it was obviously mechanically sound, and if it looked more suited to a hippy commune than to the PD, then perhaps that was pretty apt for its owner-driver. 

Pulling into Rainier’s front parking lot just far enough away from his quarry to keep him in easy sight without being noticed, Jim was unexpectedly upset by what he witnessed next. 

After sitting quietly in his van for a few moments, Blair hauled himself painfully out of the driver’s seat, obviously favouring his bad leg as he limped slowly to open the side door, through which he pulled a folded-up wheelchair. Unfolding it with practised ease, he lowered himself into it with an audible sigh (to Sentinel ears at least) and propelled himself back to the passenger door to collect his backpack and walking stick, which he placed on his lap before locking the vehicle and wheeling himself towards Hargrove Hall, the building which housed the Anthropology Department. 

At least he didn’t have far to go, since he was using a Disabled parking bay right in front of the building, and Rainier’s authorities had obviously been at pains to make their campus wheelchair-friendly, having constructed ramps in every available entry. 

Giving Blair time to get safely into the building, and tracking his progress in the elevator up one floor to the classroom where a number of cheerful voices greeted their teacher, Jim finally entered the building himself, intent on doing a little sleuthing. 

As luck would have it, he was able to gather way more information than he would have expected or hoped for.  


\-----------------------  


Walking purposefully along the main corridor, Jim was halted in his tracks when an office door opened to emit a short, elderly, white haired man, whose cheerful face and natural exuberance reminded Jim of an older version of his new partner – at least, on the couple of occasions he had witnessed the young man’s unbridled enthusiasm. 

Swiftly noting the name on the door as that of Dr Eli Stoddard, Jim stepped aside, and, summoning one of his best smiles, addressed the other man politely. “Dr Stoddard? I don’t wish to delay you, but I was wondering if you knew a friend of mine, Dr Blair Sandburg?” 

As a pair of sparkling, and very intelligent eyes turned to study him intently, Jim wondered briefly if he had made a serious error of judgement before the older man replied. 

“Blair? Of Course I know Blair, my boy! One of my favourite students, and a credit to the University! How do you know him, my boy? Because, forgive me for saying so, you don’t look like one of his students?” 

Blushing slightly at the older man’s shrewd observation, Jim decided that he may as well come clean, and trust to the professor’s judgement. 

“Well, no, you’re right. I’m not one of Blair’s students. I’m here as his partner in his capacity of consultant to the Cascade PD. Detective Jim Ellison, sir,” and he held out his hand for the professor to shake. 

“Please believe me that I have no ill-intentions towards him. It’s just that, as his new partner, I wanted to get an idea of where he was coming from. I mean, his insights are pretty darned good, and I felt the need to get an inside view without making him uncomfortable...” and he tailed off, uncertain as to how the other man would interpret his statement. 

After a couple of seconds more, Stoddard nodded decisively, and opened his office door again. 

“Do come in, Detective. I think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I believe that you mean Blair no harm. Believe me, if I thought as much, you’d be out on your ear, police or no police!” and he chuckled disarmingly. “What do you need to know, Detective? I can assure you that Blair’s academic credentials are second to none, and if it hadn’t been for his accident, he would be a tenured Professor of Anthropology by now!” 

“Yes, well, about that, Dr Stoddard. Blair is very closed-mouthed about the accident. I don’t suppose you could give me a bit more information, could you? It wouldn’t reflect on his regard within the PD, I assure you, but I think I need to understand?” 

For long moments, Stoddard held his gaze, plainly weighing up his options. Finally, however, much to Jim’s relief, he began to speak. 

“Very well, Detective. I’ll tell you what I can about the accident. 

“You need to realise that Blair is very special. A true genius doesn’t come along that often, and I acknowledge Blair as a true _wunderkind_. I don’t suppose he told you that he started here at age sixteen, but I saw his potential immediately, and nurtured his love of anthropology. Do you realise he had gained his undergraduate degree before his nineteenth birthday? And when he told me he wanted to continue his Master’s programme studying Sentinels, I couldn’t have been more thrilled! 

“I had already planned to go on an expedition to Peru, in advance of certain logging companies, hoping that our research into the indigenous peoples’ habitat would force the local government to pull the plug on the destruction of their part of the rain forest. We also had information as regards the possible existence of a tribal Sentinel. Blair was ecstatic! He so wanted to study the ‘real thing’ in a pre-industrialised society, and was eager to take up my offer of a place on the expedition. 

“Anyhow, only a few days into the trip, the weather turned vile, with rain far worse than normal. We were trekking over a mountain range at the time, when one of the students – a young man – was caught in a mud slide and pitched over a ravine. Despite an acknowledged fear of heights, Blair volunteered to go down after him. He was lowered down on a rope, and he managed to secure the other student who was pulled to safety. 

“Trouble was, there was another mudslide, and Blair was smashed against a rocky outcrop,” and here the older man’s expression became deeply saddened at the reminiscence. 

“When we got Blair back up, he was unconscious, but it was obvious his leg had been badly broken at the very least. All we could do was call for help, and carry him out of the forest. His suffering was great, Detective, but he didn’t complain. Just apologised for putting us to so much trouble! Can you believe it? 

“Anyhow, once his condition was stabilised, he was shipped back to the States, and I heard later that his mother came to care for him during his convalescence, for which I am heartily grateful. 

“After he recovered enough to study, he continued his Master’s programme, then decided to change topics for his doctorate – in which I totally backed him, knowing that his disability would curtail his active participation in future expeditions. 

“So, there we are. I was just thrilled to be able to secure his services as a part-time teacher. He is a dedicated, talented and extremely popular young man, and a delightful colleague. 

“Now, was there anything else? Because I have a staff meeting to attend!” and he smiled disarmingly at Jim. 

More than satisfied on his part, Jim returned the smile. 

“Thank you, Dr Stoddard! You’ve given me plenty to think about, and I assure you that Blair will benefit--” 

“As I’m sure _you_ do from his guidance, Sentinel!” replied the older man knowingly, with a decided twinkle in his eye. 

He was unsurprised when Jim’s expression took on a slightly bemused look as he muttered, “Er, I’ll bid you goodnight then, Dr Stoddard!” and he shook the older man’s hand again before making his way out to the parking lot. 

Once there, he sat quietly in his vehicle, taking the opportunity to mull over what he had learned while waiting for the younger man to emerge from the building on completing his seminar.  


\------------------------  


A short time later, Jim observed Blair exiting Hargrove Hall in the company of several young people, all of whom were chatting and laughing as they exchanged jokes and pleasantries with their youthful professor. As one of the young men wheeled Blair towards his van, cheerful farewells were exchanged as Blair levered himself out of his chair and into the driver’s seat, gratefully acknowledging the young man who folded and stored the chair in the back. 

Once everyone had gone on their particular ways, Blair started up and pulled out of the lot, still blissfully unaware of his benevolent ‘tail’, and concentrating on getting home, where his bed beckoned, but only after he had completed his profile.  


\-------------------------  


Concentrating on not spooking his partner, Jim maintained his distance, only for a frown to develop between his brows as the journey continued. Blair was heading towards a decidedly seedy area of the city, where low-cost housing and cheaply constructed apartment blocks were the norm, and the streets were littered with trash and the occasional burnt-out car wreck. Passing strip malls made up mainly of pawn shops, boarded up and vandalised units and shabby thrift stores, Jim couldn’t help but grind his teeth in aggravation at discovering that the young profiler had chosen to make his home in such a run-down district. 

When the old VW eventually pulled up in front of a drab three story building, Jim pulled in behind him, Blessed Protector instinct in overdrive. He’d had enough of the secretive nonsense and needed to confront the young man the and there on his poor choice of neighbourhood. 

Looking up in genuine surprise as he fished around in his backpack for his keys, Blair offered a tentative smile before saying, “Hey, Jim! Did you need something, man? I haven’t had time to finish the full profile yet because I’ve only just got back--” 

“I know where you’ve been, Chief! I’m not here to demand the profile yet. What I do want to know though is how the _hell_ an intelligent guy like you could have chosen to live in a dump like this! It isn’t safe, Chief, and it sure as hell isn’t what you should be looking at in accommodation!” 

Mood swiftly changing from surprised hurt to anger at the big man’s attitude, Blair retaliated immediately, voice deep and almost shaking in his barely-controlled fury. 

“How dare you! How _dare_ you follow me and make instant judgements on my home! I’ll have you know that the folks in my building are a good crowd. We look out for each other and do our own policing where necessary! Unlike other so-called smart neighbourhoods, where folks neither know nor care who their next-door neighbour is, we _know_ who we can call on when something’s wrong, and it sure as hell isn’t the local precinct house! 

“Don’t you dare judge me, man! Just go home, and I’ll see you at the PD tomorrow!” 

However, his brief flare of anger died as quickly as did his fleeting burst of nervous energy, leaving him spent and disheartened, hurt that once again Jim had apparently judged him and found him wanting. 

Jim was taken aback at Blair’s vehement defence of his home, not least because, on closer inspection, the building certainly did look better cared for than most of the others in the block. Not that that was saying much, but it did offer concrete evidence that the residents tried to at least keep it clean and tidy. 

Feeling somewhat embarrassed at his snap judgement, and wishing not for the first time that he could learn to think before opening his mouth, Jim looked away and then down at his feet before facing the smaller man again, and meeting blue eyes dulled now with fatigue and disillusion. 

“OK, look, I’m sorry, Chief. I guess that didn’t come over too well, did it?” 

“You could say that, certainly,” came the weary reply. “Do you want to come in? ‘Cos I have to say I’m pretty much done in for now, and I need to sit down.” 

Immediately concerned for the suffering man, and mentally kicking himself for his thoughtless stupidity, Jim quickly threw a supportive arm around the slender waist, saying, “Sure, Sandburg! Let me help you there. I wasn’t thinking--” only to be cut short by another voice butting in. 

“Hey, Blair, you need help buddy? You need me to call the other guys, huh?” and Jim swung round to see a tall, heavily built young Hispanic man standing behind him, muscled arms flexed and ready for action. 

Summoning a smile, Blair replied, “No, I’m good, Rico, honestly. This is my colleague from the PD. He just gets a bit carried away sometimes when he thinks I need to take care of myself better. Thanks for asking anyway, though. And how’s Maria? The baby must be coming soon, huh?” 

Disarmed by Blair’s words, although apparently still not totally convinced of Jim’s good intentions, the man replied, “If you’re sure, man? And Maria’s good...baby should be here sometime next week if the doctors have got it right. She can’t wait! Says she’s sick of looking like a giant M & M! 

“Anyway, if you’re OK, I’ll leave you to it. See you tomorrow, man!” and he backed off a little, although he kept watch until Jim had helped his drooping partner through the front door and into his tiny first floor unit. 

“See man?” offered Blair tiredly as he sank onto the ratty overstuffed coach just inside the door. “Care in the community – can’t beat it!” and he leaned his head back against the cushions for a few moments, letting his eyes drift shut and savouring the chance to relax a little. 

Initially perplexed by the fact that he had been concentrating so hard on his partner that his senses had failed to register the neighbour’s presence until he had addressed them, Jim pushed the thought away as he looked around him, taking the opportunity offered by Blair ‘s closed eyes to study the interior of the small apartment. 

The whole unit basically comprised of a largish rectangular room, one corner of which was walled off to make what Jim assumed must be a small shower room and toilet. Across in the other corner, a small breakfast bar with two battered bar stools denoted the tiny kitchenette, which boasted a miniature microwave, counter top fridge and two burner hob along with a couple of wall cabinets for storage. The main space comprised the living area and bedroom, with an unmade twin bed in one corner. 

Every inch of spare floor space around the walls was lined with piles of books and papers stuffed into cardboard file boxes stacked precariously one on top of the other, and a flimsy foldaway desk boasted a printer / scanner combo and the necessary cables for Blair’s laptop. 

All in all, it was an untidy mess, but surprisingly clean under all the clutter. 

As he completed his scan, Jim was somewhat surprised when Blair, eyes still tight shut, murmured, “Like what you see, man? And you really shouldn’t beat yourself up about not noticing Rico, man. He moves real quietly for a guy his size, and you did have all your senses tuned into me, didn’t you?” 

“How did you know what I was thinking, Chief?” queried Jim, disquieted by the other’s accuracy. 

“What can I say? Empath here, man! Comes with the turf!” and Blair uttered a tired chuckle as he opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side to study the Sentinel. 

“Now, I really don’t want to be rude, Ellison, but I need my bed. If I’m to get up early enough to complete my profile – ‘cos I sure can’t do it right now – I need to get to bed. 

“You OK with letting yourself out?” 

Wanting to stay, but uncertain under what terms and conditions, Jim admitted defeat for now, and made for the door, but only after saying, “OK, Chief. I don’t want to keep you up. But are you OK getting yourself to bed? I only mean that you look exhausted, babe,” he added hurriedly at Blair’s frowning glance. “I’m sure you can manage more than well enough on your own under normal circumstances....” 

As Blair smiled sleepily at him, eyes once more shadow-free even if marred by the bruised-looking signs of tiredness beneath them, he backed towards the door, slipping out and pulling it closed behind him after wishing his partner goodnight. 

Deep in thought, he climbed back into his truck, and headed for home, feeling more unsettled than he had in a very long time.  


\-------------------------  


**Next morning: MCU conference room:**  


By 8.30 am the following morning, Blair was sitting quietly alongside Simon Banks as the Captain introduced him properly to his team in advance of his presentation, explaining exactly what the new case entailed, and emphasising its importance not only to the department but also to the Mayor on account of his niece’s involvement. 

Having gone through the information already passed on to them by Vice, Banks made no bones about including Blair’s theories regarding the possibility of many more unreported victims, and, judging by the nods of agreement and thoughtful glances of most of those present, the empath in Blair was relieved to know that at least the majority of the investigating officers didn’t think his ideas were going to be completely off the wall. 

_Outside the box, maybe,_ he thought with an internal grin. _But at least they seem to be prepared to listen._

Glancing up from his papers as he prepared to outline his profile of the perp, he locked eyes briefly with Jim Ellison, who had placed himself deliberately in full line of sight, almost as if daring anyone else to encroach on his turf and approach the profiler. 

With a slight blush pinking his cheeks, Blair coughed a little self-consciously, then threw himself into the presentation, personal discomfort forgotten in the importance of convincing the assembled team of his veracity and ability. 

An hour later, Blair was feeling both exhausted and exhilarated by the discussion his profile had provoked, and was pretty much buzzed with the high with which an energetic and intelligent debate and exchange of ideas always left him. 

In general, all the questions and opinions offered were well-considered and thoughtful, and only one or two – mostly from the uniforms present – were either trite or slightly malicious, and Blair chose to ignore them for the present, ruefully acknowledging that he would undoubtedly pick them to pieces later in private when his lack of self-confidence had most power over him. 

When Simon called for a short coffee break during which he intended to introduce Blair to the team members individually, it was blatantly obvious that Jim intended to stay close by, even if he didn’t actually glue himself to Sandburg’s side in territorial possessiveness. 

The detectives who would make up the undercover team comprised of Rafe and his partner H, Megan Connor and Joel Taggart and Jim and Blair himself. The other detectives and uniforms would be dispersed as backup as and when needed. Having only really met Joel properly, Blair was interested in studying the other members of the MCU detective unit, using his observational skills as an anthropologist first and foremost to study how they interacted and gelled as a working unit, particularly as he had already suggested to Banks as to how they should proceed with attempting to trap the rapist. 

Joel’s usual partner was the tall Australian Inspector, Megan Connor; a striking brunette who grinned cheerfully at Blair when they were introduced. 

Simon had already explained that, as a low-level empath, she had done her best to support Jim as needed, but the partnership was doomed from the outset. Basically, they couldn’t stand one another, principally because Jim was so ungrateful and difficult to work with, and Connor had far too much spirit and ability to be used as a doormat. 

“Hey, Dr Sandburg!” she began enthusiastically, shaking his hand with one of hers while the other reached up unaffectedly to cup his cheek. 

“Great presentation, mate. I can see you being a hell of an asset to the PD, love. You will be around a good bit, huh? We could do with some real insight from a high-level empath like you! Can I call you Sandy?” she continued almost without drawing breath, so that Sandburg could do little more than nod and smile in bemused acquiescence, for once hoist by his own petard when it came to being lost for words at her rapid-fire dialogue. 

Although he could hear a rumbling growl from the Sentinel at his back, Blair had no chance to respond to the territorial display as he was introduced in turn to Rafe and H, who both greeted him pleasantly enough, and Joel who patted him on the shoulder with a friendly grin. 

Detective Rafe was a slender, quietly-spoken and pleasant-looking young man, who dressed with impeccable taste, unlike his partner Henri Brown, otherwise known as ‘H’. H was a large and boisterous African American who favoured loud Hawaiian shirts and a strange leather cap. 

All of the team members appeared to hold Jim in high esteem as regards his sleuthing abilities, but it was noticeable how they gave him a wide berth when it came to inconsequential pleasantries, something that left Blair both saddened and perturbed. 

However, it was soon back to business as they took their seats once again, and Captain Banks outlined the proposed course of action. 

Working to a great extent on the insight and suggestions from Blair’s presentation, Simon proposed to set up a scenario designed to stake out a potential night club venue, using Megan as bait. She would be closely monitored by Rafe, posing as a barman, with H nearby as backup, probably in the guise of a bouncer. Jim would listen in either from within the club as a patron, or from outside using his enhanced senses, as Simon assumed that Blair would be happy to accompany him to act as Guide and ground him as necessary. Once certain that the abduction was going down, Jim would be able to alert the rest of the backup team, and literally catch the perp in the act. 

Megan agreed with alacrity, grinning ferociously at the opportunity to nail the bastard, and Rafe, who had experience at bar-work from his college days, would be on hand to switch drinks if the perp should show up and attempt to spike Megan’s drink. 

Blair had to make his excuses at that point, needing to get to Rainier to teach his class, so Simon nodded in acknowledgement, assuring him that he would provide Blair with the final details of the plan on his return to the PD that afternoon. 

Limping down to the elevator as fast as he could comfortably manage, mind already working on his upcoming lecture, luckily Blair was already out of earshot when Jim chose to make his very forthright opinions heard. 

Approaching Simon as soon as he was sure the young profiler had made it safely out of the building; Jim almost snarled his objections as a deep frown marred his handsome features. 

Confronting his boss head-on he said, “Simon...Captain...this isn’t right! I know Blair has a lot to offer the department, and this set-up could well work because of his input, but you can’t seriously be considering sending him out in the field with me? He’s a civilian, for Pete’s sake, and a crippled one at that! What’s he going to do if things get nasty? I can’t do my job properly if I’ve got to look after him!” 

Frowning in his turn, Banks took Jim’s arm and pulled him away from the others before making his angry response. 

“Now look, Jim. Yes, the youngster’s lame, but why should that be any worse for you to deal with than the other alternative? As it stands, you seem to have full control of your senses – am I right?” 

At Jim’s reluctant nod, he continued, “That it’s because of Blair’s ability as a Guide is a given, right? Even though he’s only been here a couple of days...right again?” 

And Jim was again forced to nod in agreement. 

“OK then, Jim. The alternative to going out in the field with Blair acting as your Guide is to accept the desk job I was talking about before, or consider retirement on medical grounds, because you sure as hell can’t go back in the field with spiking senses like you’ve been experiencing recently. 

“So, what’s it to be, Sentinel?” and he fixed his detective with a gimlet glare. 

Caught in the horns of a dilemma, Jim glanced away from Simon, arms crossed over his broad chest, and teeth clenched so tightly in irritation that the small muscles in his jaws danced with the tension. 

Long moments later, he came to a reluctant decision, and turned to face his captain again. 

“OK, Captain. You win – for now anyway. You know how much the job means to me, but I still don’t like the idea of putting Sandburg in the line of fire. If he agrees to ride with me, so be it, but only if he understands the risks. I don’t want to be consumed by guilt down the line if he gets hurt and blames me!” 

Grinning with no little relief, Simon replied, “I don’t think that’ll be the case, Jim. Remember, the kid’s been to Quantico, even if he didn’t do the physical training, so he’s not naive. He may not carry, but I think you’ll find he’s the type who’ll think on his feet, so to speak. 

“Just give it a try, Jim. You never know,” he continued slyly, “You may just find that he’s the one you’ve been waiting for to bond with!” and he chuckled at his own suggestion. 

Drawing himself up in disdain, Jim replied stiffly, “No way, Sir! OK, we might be able to rub along for a stretch while he helps me get my senses under proper control, but no way would I tie myself to some hippy academic like that – especially a damaged one!” 

Smile disappearing abruptly at the harsh words, Simon responded coldly. “You know Jim; I never had you figured for a bigot! Your father maybe, but I don’t like hearing stuff like that from you. When Blair gets back after his lecture, I expect you at least to be polite. That kid needs friends, not a hard-assed temporary partner!” 

Suitably chastised, Jim nodded again, and turned away, mulling over what on earth he had landed himself in this time, and cursing the fickleness of the Fates. 

Certainly he had no problem with being bi – he simply kept it quiet because he figured it was no one’s business but his own. He had always dated women exclusively anyway since he joined the PD, including a disastrous eighteen month marriage to the then head of Forensics, Lieutenant Carolyn Plummer. 

He recognised that Blair was a particularly attractive young man, and couldn’t deny that his initial urge on meeting him for the first time had been positively lustful, but he decided that a lot of that response had been down to the instinctive, primal reaction of a Sentinel to protect a high-level Guide, before coming to the reluctant conclusion that he was probably deluding himself. 

_Yeah, Ellison. Keep telling yourself that!_ he thought in rueful self-mockery, as he settled down with the rest of the team to thrash out the finer details for the set-up.  


\-------------------------  


A couple of hours later saw Blair leaning heavily against the wall of the elevator taking him back up to the MCU, having delivered his lecture at Rainier and dealt with the inevitable questions his content provoked in his students who had more than a little respect and liking for their popular young professor. 

Finally extracting himself from their enthusiastic impromptu debate, he made his way tiredly to his office, where he was seriously tempted to succumb to the lure of using his wheelchair to alleviate the constant ache in his leg which had been exacerbated by too much activity the previous day. 

However, he obstinately refused to give in to the overt sign of weakness in the eyes of Detective Ellison, so he gritted his teeth, and reluctantly swallowed down a couple of the extra-strength painkillers he was loath to use unless in exceptional circumstances. Once the ache had subsided marginally, he collected his papers together and left the office, driving carefully the short distance to the PD underground parking lot, where Captain Banks had ensured he had a reserved spot right next to the elevators. 

Leaning heavily on his walking stick, he exited the elevator on the sixth floor, but, rather than go immediately to the MCU conference room, from where he could hear the murmur of voices from the undercover team, he decided to give himself a few more moments to get his ‘game face’ on and limped instead to the men’s restroom, intending to splash some cold water on his face and tidy himself up a bit. 

Having used the facilities, and in the process of washing his hands and face, he supposed that it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the door opened to admit a very stern-looking Ellison. Turning to face the detective, Blair leaned against the counter for support, and offered a smile of welcome, only to have it freeze on his face as the big man continued towards him to crowd into his personal space, forcing him to press his hips back harder against the unyielding surface. 

When the Sentinel gripped his upper arms with bruising strength, his eyes widened in real fear, and he grasped Jim’s shirt-front with both fists in an attempt to keep himself upright and push the bigger man away. 

In truth, hurting Blair was the last thing on Jim’s mind. 

As he had tracked the young Guide’s arrival in the building, and his hyper sensitivity discerned the small indicators of pain and exhaustion in Blair’s body as he made his way up to the MCU, the Sentinel instinct to protect and care for the Guide despite himself suddenly became overwhelming, so he quickly made his way to the restroom to do just that. 

Unfortunately, his anger at the young man’s physical condition manifested itself to Blair as pure aggression, and for long moments he felt rising panic as he knew he could do nothing to protect himself from his powerful captor. His struggles, and the tremors running through his slender frame did nothing to allay Jim’s instinctive need to hold tighter to his trembling prey, and it was only when Blair managed to calm himself enough to ‘read’ the Sentinel that he realised that Jim, far from wanting to hurt him, was actually in full Blessed Protector mode. 

Forcing himself to relax, Blair released his white-knuckled grip on Jim’s shirt, and instead, rested his open palms on the broad chest, lowering his head to press his forehead against Jim’s shoulder. 

“Gods, man, you scared me, Jim. I thought you hated the idea of working with me so much that you’d decided to do away with me!” and he offered a shaky chuckle before looking up again to meet Jim’s ice blue gaze. 

“Um, you can let me go now, Sentinel. I’m OK, really! Just overdid it a bit yesterday, but you don’t have to worry. I can still stand on my own two feet - for now, anyway!” 

Rather than offering an answering smile, Jim maintained his frowning gaze, caught in a turmoil of conflicting emotions which raced around his brain leaving confusion in their wake. Although still in the throes of uber-protector-mode, now that Blair was relaxing in his hold and losing the sour tang of fear, he was sharply aware of the feel of the warm body beneath his hands, and the addictive natural scent which was coming to the fore. 

Suddenly needing to taste the soft skin of the young Guide’s enticing neck, Jim lowered his head and licked experimentally at the delicate area behind Blair’s ear. 

The young man’s reaction was instant, and he moaned in bliss at the moist laving which made his toes curl and a fire coil deep in his long-neglected groin as he leant into the touch. 

However, the moment ended abruptly when Jim suddenly realised what he was doing, and the possible consequences doused his ardour like a bucket of cold water thrown over him. Pushing the small figure away from him so quickly that Blair was forced to grab the counter again to prevent his leg from giving way, he retreated behind his automatic instinct to go on the offensive, and growled out, “Shit, Sandburg! What did you do? What the fuck was that about?” 

Deeply hurt at the inference that it was all his doing, Blair responded angrily, “My fault? Where the hell did that come from, Ellison? Last time I looked, it was _you_ attacking _me!_ Or are you going to deny your instinctive reactions, huh?” 

Abruptly deflating like a punctured balloon, unable to sustain the energy needed to continue the argument, Blair sagged against the counter; shoulders slumped in defeat as he said tiredly, “It’s OK, Sentinel. I get the message. I know you don’t want me – hell, why would you want this anyway?” and he indicated his own body with a derisory sweep of his hand. 

“Don’t sweat it, man. I understand. Let’s just forget it ever happened, OK? 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he finished almost _sotto voce,_ momentarily forgetting that his words were easily audible to Sentinel ears. 

Feeling now like a heartless, manipulative bastard, Jim reached out quickly to the defeated young man, desperate to explain himself - or at least attempt to - only to be interrupted by the entrance of Joel, who had come to look for the pair who were awaited in the conference room. 

Pushing himself away from the counter, Blair grabbed his walking stick, and, pasting a cheerful but totally manufactured smile on his face, limped to the door saying brightly, “Lead on, Joel! Sorry, I just had to do the honours before I got stuck into the meeting again...” and he accompanied the older man to the conference room, chatting amicably and leaving a very disgruntled and rather ashamed Jim to follow in their wake.  


\-------------------------  


**Blue Moon Nightclub, following evening:**  


In a dimly-lit corner of the popular and up-market Blue Moon Nightclub, Blair sat opposite his ‘date’ for the evening, Detective Jim Ellison, grounding the Sentinel in the guise of constant small-talk and gentle touches of his partner’s arm and hand. Physically exhausted, Blair was grateful to be seated during the stake-out, even though his mind was working at full speed, fuelled by a mix of excitement and anxiety as he covertly surveyed the scene before him. 

Even as he took a moment to study the intent expression on the detective’s face, admiring the patrician profile, he cast his thoughts back to the previous afternoon when he had returned for his final briefing.  


\------------------------------  


After the desperately painful altercation in the restroom, Blair had done his utmost to put the incident from his mind and concentrate on the upcoming operation, but despite his best efforts, Captain Banks had eventually pulled him aside and confronted him. Taking the young man into the relative privacy of his own office, Simon came straight out with his observations, wanting to know what was going on with what he sincerely hoped might become his best team. Knowing that Ellison could listen in if he wanted to, and not much caring if he did, Simon said, “OK, Doc, out with it! You might have everyone else here fooled, but not me! I can tell there’s something seriously awry between you and Ellison!” 

Smiling ruefully at the big man, Blair replied, “You sure you’re not the empath around here Captain? I thought I was doing a pretty good cover-up job myself!” 

“That’s why I get paid the big bucks, kid! Now, quit with the verbal tap dancing, and tell me what’s wrong. Have you had second thoughts about working with Ellison?” 

Staring down at his feet for a long moment, Blair raised his head and met the Captain’s shrewd dark brown gaze, allowing his feelings to display openly on his mobile face. 

“No, sir, I haven’t had second thoughts. But I think Jim might have. 

“You see, when I arrived this afternoon, he made a move on me...no, not like that, sir!” he added hurriedly as Simon’s expression darkened noticeably. “It was just sentinel instinct because he must have tuned into me and figured I wasn’t feeling my best. 

“Anyhow, he made it quite clear when he snapped out of it that he has no interest in me whatsoever as far as bonding is concerned, or in my becoming his permanent Guide. And I can see his point. After all, I’d be no help in the field except for sitting in the truck and calling for backup, and I don’t think he even likes me enough to do more than use me to ground him when necessary. 

“Having said that, I’m prepared to work with him on a day-to-day basis until such time as he finds a Guide he can bond with. He has too much ability to be let go just because his senses are acting up.” 

Frowning in consternation at the young man’s candid words, Banks grimaced in irritation before responding. 

“I’m sorry, Blair. If I had my way, I’d kick the crap out of the idiot, but I can’t force Jim to do something he’s so obviously against, and I don’t think it’d be fair on you either, which is more to the point. 

“Thank you for your honesty, and for offering to keep working with the big galoot for the time being. I just hope you don’t get too hurt or upset in the meantime, but I want you to promise you’ll come to me if you need to talk about anything, OK?” 

Smiling gently at this evidence of a genuine concern for his well-being, Blair replied, “Thanks, Captain. It means a lot to know that you don’t hold it against me for not being what Jim needs. 

“Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get home so I can catch up on some grading before tomorrow’s operation,” and he levered himself to his feet and headed for the door, with a final friendly pat to his shoulder from the big captain. 

Bending studiously over some files on his desk in the bullpen, Jim had heard every word, and could do nothing but grind his teeth in frustration, not having the faintest clue at the moment as to how to fix this sorry state of affairs, or even if he really wanted to.  


\------------------------  


Satisfied for the moment that nothing was going down, and fully aware of his young companion’s regard, Jim took a moment to look properly at his temporary Guide, once again struck by the kid’s indubitable physical beauty. 

“Hey, Chief, penny for them?” he murmured, pleased when Blair glanced up quickly to meet his gaze, smiling softly in appreciation at the gentler tone. 

“It’s nothing, Jim. Just contemplating the environment – and the company,” he added in unconscious honesty with a small but decidedly suggestive grin. 

However, before Jim could respond, he shut down just as quickly, assuming that the Sentinel didn’t need to hear such sentiments, and becoming businesslike again as he continued, “Megan looks great, doesn’t she? If she can’t get that animal to respond, no one can!” 

Nodding in reluctant agreement even as he regretted Blair’s sudden change of topic, Jim replied, “You’re right, doc. Didn’t think she’d scrub up so well!” and he snickered in gentle mockery. 

“Rafe makes a convincing barman also, but I think H’s way too cheerful for a bouncer,” he continued. “Until the perp gets on the wrong side of him, that is. You have to see the guy in action to believe it!” and he was relieved to see Blair relax minutely, and gaze at him in unfeigned interest before his expressive face changed once again to a look of doubt and concern. 

“Gods, I hope I’ve got this right,” the young man murmured, biting his lip as he glanced away. 

“I mean, I know it’s probably wishful thinking to hope that we trap the rapist on our first attempt, but I still worry that I’ve got the whole thing backwards, and that I’ve completely misread the MO. He could be out there right now attacking some other poor girl while I’ve got the team sitting around in here!” 

“And if he is, Chief, it still wouldn’t be your fault!” Jim assured him. “You can only do your best with the information we’ve got, and I, for one, think you’re on the right track. And if we don’t get him tonight, I’m thinking it won’t be too long before we do!” 

The look of intense gratitude he received for his honest assertion almost made him wince in discomfort, knowing that it was probably the first nice compliment he had paid the young man thus far. 

Quickly patting the hand resting near his own, Jim turned away again to continue his surveillance, thus missing the flash of wistful longing directed at him by the other man before he in his turn concentrated on his role as Guide to the Sentinel he would dearly love to claim as his own.  


\-------------------------------------  


As it turned out, that evening the operation went like clockwork, although no one would be foolish enough to claim that such a favourable result was the inevitable outcome in the majority of the PD’s other such cases. 

Although in all honesty he knew that his input was hardly down to ‘beginner’s luck’, purely on the evidence of his previous achievements, yet Blair was truly grateful that his first collaboration with MCU had turned out to be a resounding success.  


\----------------------  


As he and Jim had continued their surveillance, and Megan sipped her third ‘gin and tonic’ (minus the gin), looking for all the world as if she had been stood up, a medium-built and pleasant-looking but unremarkable man eventually approached her, and politely asked if he could join her, as it would appear they were both lacking their intended partners. Fixing him with a speculative grin, Megan agreed, and they began to chat, initially engaging in light conversation, and gradually making subtle hints about taking the meeting further. 

When Megan excused herself to visit the ladies’ room, her new companion ordered them another round of drinks, which Rafe dispensed with a flourish worthy of a professional barman, and when the eagle-eyed Sentinel warned him via the wire he was wearing that the suspect had surreptitiously slipped something into Megan’s drink, he exchanged it for a ready-mixed one from beneath the counter with a sleight of hand of which any magician would be proud. 

On her return, Megan made short work of the ‘spiked’ drink, and made a very convincing show of a developing wooziness, uncomplaining when her partner helped her to her feet and left the club with her hanging on his arm. 

While the rest of the backup were alerted, Jim and Blair slipped quietly out of the club behind their targets and cautiously tailed the perp’s vehicle to a shabby and out-of-the-way motel, where he pulled up before a unit at the furthest end of the block. As Jim kept his senses on full alert for any signs of danger to Megan, Blair quietly coordinated the rest of the team in readiness for the take-down. 

Very shortly after, the perp made his move on his ‘drugged’ victim, only to find himself grappled and pinned down by the furious Connor, who actually had him cuffed and helpless before her backup burst into the room. 

Having been read his rights, and taken in to the PD for interrogation and booking, the man, who turned out to be one Michael Turner, a departmental supervisor in one of Cascade’s oldest and most prestigious stores, was only too pleased to confess. 

Boastfully answering all the questions posed to him, he was proud of his success rate, and positively preened over the fact that it had taken so long to catch up with him. Only when confronted by Blair himself did he show real anger and hatred, furious that the profiler had been instrumental in his identification and capture, but sneeringly proud of the fact that it had taken a newly hired consultant to come up with fresh evidence. 

At the end of a very long night, Jim had insisted on taking Blair home, as he could tell that the younger man was at the end of his endurance, and almost certainly too tired to drive himself. 

Grateful for the Sentinel’s care, Blair allowed himself to be gently helped into Jim’s truck, and had nodded off almost before they cleared the parking garage. 

The only sour note came when they pulled up outside Blair’s building, and Jim once again questioned his choice of accommodation, insisting that he ought to be able to afford something better. 

Too tired to argue, Blair simply reiterated that he had good neighbours, but also hinted at a lack of funds due to the repayment of student loans and significant medical bills, allowing Jim to assume that the latter were on his own behalf, as he had no intention of mentioning the considerable sums of money needed to pay for Naomi’s care, figuring that it was no-one’s business but his own. Pity was one thing he couldn’t bear. 

Left alone once again, the exhausted but relieved young man fell into bed, and slept deeply for many hours, too tired for once to be kept awake by dark dreams and nightmares arising from his tormented psyche and his desperate solitude.  


\---------------------------  


**Part 2: “And Reach Our Highest Goals”**  


Some weeks later, Captain Simon Banks sat behind his desk, arms folded across his chest and studying the two men seated in front of him with no little aggravation. As a commanding officer - and a good one at that, judging by the MCU’s case-solving record to date - yet he felt it incumbent upon him to look after the well-being of every member of his team, and with the pair seated in front of him, it sure wasn’t happening. Lips thinned in sympathetic irritation, he looked at the down-turned head of his newest recruit, consultant profiler and would-be Guide, Dr Blair Sandburg, who was absent-mindedly rubbing the thigh of his damaged leg. 

Never robust, the young man seemed to have shrunk within himself over the ensuing period since he joined the PD on a case-by-case consultancy basis, but Banks knew for sure that it was nothing to do with his capability as a forensic profiler. Indeed, his first collaboration with MCU had proven to be a resounding success, and he had had similar results with other departments to Simon’s sure knowledge. 

He was even finding time - though the gods only knew how - to publish papers and teach his classes at Rainier more than satisfactorily, and Banks had seen for himself how the kid would light up with enthusiasm under those circumstances, comfortable with his own capability in those fields. 

No, the problem arose from his attempts to act as an extremely capable but unwanted Guide to the resident Sentinel Detective Jim Ellison, who was getting perilously close to driving his Captain to contemplate murder most foul! 

Blair did his best under increasingly trying circumstances to back Jim up in the field, and they had some notable successes under their belts. However, for reasons known only to himself, Jim refused to bond with the young man, and accepted Sandburg’s grounding assistance only under threat of being officially tied to a desk, and apparently showing little or no appreciation or care for the young Guide who was trying so hard to help him. 

Truth be told, Simon had witnessed the occasional amiable interaction between the pair, but the warmth never lasted, and the young Doctor faded a little more every day as the Sentinel blew hot and cold in a totally unpredictable manner. 

The rest of the MCU detectives were openly supportive of the younger man, and Banks was uncomfortably aware of the frequently expressed anger against Jim, at the same time as he realised that – when he was in the appropriate frame of mind - Jim himself was noticeably more open and relaxed at the interactions in the bullpen on account of the calming and grounding his senses were subject to on a daily basis from Blair. 

Turning his gaze to the Sentinel in question, who was determinedly gazing out of the office window, jaw muscles jumping with the fierce grinding of his teeth, Simon recognised that the man had his own problems. 

A loner by preference, Ellison had always maintained that he wanted no part of a bonding which would set him up with a Guide for life. He made no secret of the opinion that such a pairing would be a tie he wasn’t prepared to accept, even though he was intelligent enough to know that he couldn’t carry on as he was, unguided and unsupported by a compatible permanent partner. 

Simon had thought long and hard about the dilemma, and come up with the conclusion that in Jim’s eyes he was actually trying to save the young Guide from what he considered to be a life of danger and unpredictability, not least from the Sentinel himself, and in that sense (no pun intended) he believed that he was acting unselfishly. 

Unfortunately for both men, that wasn’t how he came over to Sandburg, and it hadn’t occurred to Ellison to consider trying to explain his finer feelings to the Guide in question. Day after day the young man was put down and belittled; made to feel more and more of a liability particularly in view of his lameness, and the continued tension couldn’t be permitted to go on any further. 

Decision made, Simon sighed deeply, then began to speak, forcibly enough to gain both men’s instant attention. 

“OK, gentlemen. I’ve had quite enough of this dancing around each other that you persist in trying to do. I’ve seen and appreciated your joint contribution thus far to this department, and, in your case, Blair, to the PD in general, but I can’t in all good faith let this situation continue. 

“Blair,” he continued, addressing the young man directly, “It’s blatantly obvious to all of us here that you’re not thriving as long as you’re partnered with Detective Ellison. I want you to curtail your attendance at the PD to emergencies only on the Sentinel front, and just concentrate on your profiling cases as and when.” 

Touching the young man’s shoulder when it became apparent that he was about to object, Simon continued gently, “It’s for your own good, Doctor. You’re fading away in front of us here in the MCU just like the Cheshire Cat. You need to take care of yourself, kid.” 

Blair’s response died on his lips as he looked up into the caring and sympathetic gaze of the Captain, and he released a shuddering sigh as he realised that finally the game was up, and he couldn’t play any longer. Ruthlessly blinking back the tears that threatened to overflow from his wide blue eyes, he bit his lip before murmuring, “I understand, Captain. And you’re right. I’ve failed miserably in my attempts to be a reasonable Guide to Detective Ellison, and I accept your judgement. 

“I’ll confine my efforts to profiling in future, but I hope you know that I’ll always be here if you need me...” and he tailed off, casting a longing sideways glance at the frowning Sentinel beside him. 

“No kid. The failure wasn’t yours,” responded Banks gently, staring deeply into the wounded blue eyes, desperate to get his point across to the hurting younger man. “If something’s not meant to be, then it won’t be, son. It’s not your fault! 

“Now, I’d be obliged if you could give Detective Ellison and me a bit of private time. I think this might be a good opportunity to grab some of that wonderful break room coffee!” he finished with a poor attempt at humour, and he was marginally relieved when Blair took his hint and made for the door without further comment, smiling sadly back at them both as he made his exit. 

Shuffling stiffly to his temporary desk beside Jim’s, Blair fully intended on gathering his papers and stuff together and retreating to his office in Rainier to lick his wounds, but his plan was aborted at the appearance of Megan Connor and Joel Taggart on either side of him. 

As the older man squeezed his shoulder supportively, Megan turned him to face her, running one hand gently through his curls while the other cupped his cheek as she smiled down into his eyes. 

“Come on, Sandy, love. We’re about to grab a bit of early lunch. How about you come with us? I’m sure you don’t need to leave for the Uni right this minute? We could do with your company, mate!” 

Quickly ‘reading’ the pair, and realising the offer was made in all honesty, Blair found the icy core within himself warming slightly at their genuine kindness, and he nodded in grateful acceptance as he abandoned his backpack for the time being, and left the bullpen in their company, chatting amicably as they made their way out to lunch.   


\------------------------  


Meanwhile back in Simon’s office, there were all the signs of a major Alpha male pissing contest in the making. 

Once Sandburg had left the office, Simon leant forward on his elbows and studied his obstinate Detective as the man cocked his head slightly in the classic listening pose, plainly following the progress of the younger man through the bullpen, and frowning at the interchange between Blair, Megan and Joel. And although Simon couldn’t know it, Jim was also registering the taint of sadness in Blair’s scent, but ruthlessly refused to analyse its probable cause. 

In truth, Jim was grateful that his fellow detectives were so caring about the young man, but it did nothing to salve his guilty conscience as regards having the profiler trailing around after him, and he refused to acknowledge the corrosive jealousy such acts of kindness and affection engendered deep within him. 

Realising that Blair was leaving the bullpen in Connor and Taggart’s company, he dragged his attention back to his Captain with no little resentment, knowing full well that the other man had plenty to say to him, and sure that it wouldn’t be anything he wanted to hear, already deeply disturbed as he was by the interview so far. 

Sure enough, Simon waited no longer to lay into him, genuinely wanting and needing to understand just where his recalcitrant officer was coming from. 

“OK Jim. I’m speaking to you now as your friend as well as your Captain. You need to talk to me, man. I have a real dilemma here as regards how to deal with you, and you’re not making sense as far as I can see, and definitely no pun intended there,” he said with a wry grimace, in no more mood for humour than was his detective. 

“What I need to know, Jim, is why you’re so damn cruel to that boy,” and he nodded sharply to emphasise his words as Jim stared at him in open puzzlement. 

“What makes you say that, Simon? Sure, I have to order him around some, but only to keep him out of harm’s way--” 

“Or out of your hair!” his captain interjected sharply. 

“Jim...you know as well as I do that he’s hardly some rookie ride-along! He may not have training in fieldwork as we both well know, and he’s only too willing to admit, but he’s got us licked when it comes to reading and responding to situations where snap decisions have to be made as regards how suspects will react under particular circumstances. 

“Look at how he saved your ass last week when you thought you’d got the drop on Mannering in that attempted jewellery shop heist. It was Blair who realised he was going to try to take you both out with that hidden IED. Without his warning you’d be red mist along with the perp and the rest of the customers in the shop!” 

Jaw tight with irritation at the reminder, Jim replied grudgingly, “OK. I admit he’s a gifted empath, and he can think on his feet so to speak, but I still can’t condone taking a disabled civilian out in the field with me. I feel I have to protect him all the time--” 

“But doesn’t that come with the territory as far as Sentinels and Guides are concerned? I’ve never heard of any bonded pair who didn’t feel mutually protective of each other. 

“And you have to admit your senses are working just fine, Jim. You haven’t even come close to zoning since he started riding with you.” 

Backed into a corner, Jim responded angrily. “OK. OK! I’ll admit all that if you want me to. But we’re NOT bonded, and I _don’t want a Guide!_

“And if that means I have to ride a desk, then that’s your decision, Captain!” and he sat back in his seat and glared at his friend, arms folded defensively across his chest. 

“Oh Jim, can you hear yourself? Why is it so hard to admit you have feelings for the kid? After all, it’s as plain as day to just about everyone else that he worships the ground you walk on, though only the gods know why!” 

Genuinely surprised, Jim frowned at his friend. “Worships me? What makes you say that, Simon?” 

“Jeez, Jim. For a Sentinel, you sure can’t see what’s in front of you! How can you not notice how he lights up like a Christmas tree whenever you actually say something nice to him? Just as he looks like a kicked puppy when you belittle him in front of the whole bullpen. Just why he hasn’t walked out on you already I don’t know. It has to be more than just duty, even though he’s a got a strong sense of that also. The only answer is staring you right in the face! The boy loves you, and I can’t in all conscience tolerate your attitude towards him anymore! It might be devastating for you both for a while, but splitting you up is the only way I can think of to try to heal that kid’s broken spirit – and his heart! After all, he’ll still be around the PD when he’s doing profiling casework for other departments, and he’s already said he’ll help you if you get into real difficulty. 

“Give me a reason not to break up what has the potential to be my best team!” and Simon also sat back, heart-felt plea made, and watching closely for Jim’s response to his passionate speech. 

Frown deepening and lips thinning as he listened to – and actually heard – his friend’s words, Jim held Simon’s gaze for long moments while he tried to get his turbulent thoughts and emotions into some sort of logical order, before finally breaking eye contact and staring off out of the window while he marshalled the appropriate wording for his reply. 

Knowing instinctively that Simon would wait patiently for the right response, he took several minutes longer before finally speaking. Finally forced to face up to the truth of the situation, he had no alternative but to get his head out of his ass and truly accept what he so desperately wanted to deny. 

With perfect sense recall, he remembered his instant reaction to Blair the first time he laid eyes on him in this very office, savouring the young man’s tantalising scent, and desperately wanting to imprint every sense with the delectable body; managing to hold himself in check only with the most extreme difficulty. With self-imposed blinders stripped away, he recalled instance after instance when he had deliberately snubbed the young profiler, shocked now at the retrospective vision of the devastation and hurt on the expressive features, and finally recognising the progressive pallor and signs of care and unhappiness writ large on the attractive face for what they were. Abruptly realising that Simon was in the right, he knew that Blair’s overall physical condition was also deteriorating, and reluctantly accepted that it was directly linked to his treatment of his partner. It didn’t help that much when he also recalled the bright smiles and wide-eyed adoration he witnessed on the all-too-rare occasions when he had either complimented the kid, or light-heartedly horsed around with him in the bullpen. 

Sighing deeply, he faced up to the truth. The profiler was a truly gifted Guide. 

_His_ Guide, if only he had the guts to reach out and claim him. 

And therein lay the problem. 

He didn’t think he _had_ the guts to tie such a beautiful, talented and loving creature to him. 

Sighing again, he returned his gaze to his Captain and friend, unsurprised to see the genuine care and sympathy in the other man’s eyes. 

Coughing a little to clear his throat, he spoke; words painful and stilted as he tried to explain his point of view. “It’s true, Simon. Everything you say is true. I just needed someone to kick my ass and force me to admit it. Trouble is, in all honesty I still can’t see how I can claim him. 

“Gods, Simon! Look at him! And look at me! 

“Yeah, OK, he’s disabled, but I admit I was only hiding behind that as an excuse not to bond. If I was to claim him, how fair would that be? He’s brilliant, has a future in academia if he wants it, as well as a pretty damned good rep in profiling, and he should be looking at having a family...kids! 

“What can I offer apart from a life with a middle-aged, bad-tempered cop, who has no choice but to take him into potentially dangerous situations on a regular basis! 

“No, Simon. I can’t ask it of him. I _won’t!”_

Eyes full of understanding, Simon nodded once before replying, “And there we have it, don’t we, Jim? It’s not him that you don’t trust – it’s yourself. 

“Just when did you decide you weren’t worthy of friendship and support, man? How long have you denied yourself the comfort of genuine camaraderie? When your chopper went down in Peru? Because I have to say, my friend, it’s about time you realised that there are still good people out there who want to know you, and Blair understands that. He’s one of them, and he loves you, warts and all. How about you give him – and us – a chance? I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, Jim,” and he sat back again, with a somewhat rueful half-smile on his face. 

Holding the captain’s steady gaze for a while longer, Jim finally nodded slightly as he replied, “OK, Simon. It’s a lot to take in right now, but I’ll think on it. Can I take the rest of the afternoon off? I think I need to follow my Guide’s example and take some time to ‘centre myself’,” and his mouth quirked in the faintest of grins at the unfamiliar words. 

Smiling in his turn with no little relief, Simon replied, “You got it, Jim. Take the rest of the day, and I truly hope you’ll be back in the morning in the mood to solve this problem. God knows, there’s more than just you and the kid wants you to sort things out between you. Go! Home! Think!” and he stood up to usher his friend to the door.  


\---------------------------  


**That Afternoon: Blair’s apartment:**  


Blair sat in front of his laptop, eyes misty and unfocussed as he tried to make sense of his wildly fluctuating emotions. 

Coming back to himself briefly, he realised that he had been preoccupied for so long that his laptop had gone into screensaver-mode, and he ruefully concluded that there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate enough to work on his outstanding paper tonight. Saving the pitiful amount he had been able to do so far, he closed the file and shut down his computer, intending to get it out later perhaps, when he felt a little more together. 

In truth, he felt awful. 

Despite the breakthrough he thought he had made with Jim following the successful closure of the ‘rapist’ case, in the ensuing weeks he had come to the disheartening conclusion that the Sentinel had no intention of working with him on a permanent basis, let alone claiming him and bonding, and in all honesty he could understand why. 

Built like a god among men, Jim was the epitome of a hero, as, indeed he was, if even half of the information in the magazine articles following his rescue from Peru was to be believed, and Blair had no reason to think otherwise. He had seen the man in action, and witnessed firsthand his devotion to duty and commitment to ‘serve and protect’, and it had honestly never occurred to Blair that he himself had played a significant role in the most recent spate of arrests. 

Limping to his tiny refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of water, and sat down on his ancient sofa, knowing that it would take a while to get himself together enough to decide what his course of action should be now that Jim had made it very obvious he had done with Blair’s services. 

He was more than grateful to Simon Banks for giving him a chance to work with Jim, and if it hadn’t worked out, well, it wasn’t through any fault of the captain’s. Indeed, it seemed to Blair that Banks had been more than sympathetic when it became obvious that the partnership was failing, and had offered support and friendship to the devastated young Guide, as had other members of the MCU, particularly Megan and Joel and H and Rafe. 

He also had many friends and acquaintances at Rainier, so it never ceased to puzzle him as to why he felt so lonely. 

Looking at it as objectively as he could, he finally concluded that being alone and being lonely were two very different states as far as he was concerned. Even though he chose to live by himself in this tiny apartment in order to conserve his income for more important issues, he was hardly ever alone, insofar as University friends and students frequently either called in or invited him to parties and socials on a regular basis. He also got along really well with the other tenants in his building, their very diversity stimulating and satisfying the anthropologist in him. 

So why then, he pondered, _did_ he feel so very lonely? 

The answer was probably twofold in that, during his itinerant childhood when he travelled constantly with Naomi, he had learned the hard way not to let people get too close to him. It was so very painful to be torn away from special friends again and again every time Naomi’s wanderlust got the better of her, which had happened only too frequently. He therefore made a point of withholding the ‘inner Blair’ simply to protect himself from perpetual heartbreak every time he was forced to say goodbye. 

On the other hand, he was painfully aware that the other reason was very much tied in with his empathic ability and his need to bond. 

As a gifted Guide, he was genetically wired to complement the talents of a compatible Sentinel, with whom he could share his whole self, and enjoy his Sentinel’s whole-hearted reciprocation. It was, for him, the ultimate goal, and undoubtedly should have been his crowning achievement. Having found such a match, and having that individual spurn him was more than his psyche could bear, hence the crushing loneliness that threatened to destroy him. 

Heaving a deep sigh, and swiping at the tears that trickled obstinately down his cheeks, he tried to pull himself together, mentally scolding himself and telling himself to stop with the pity party already! Despite his best efforts, however, the persistent misery pulled at him, and he began to realise just why so many Sentinels and Guides needed medical assistance should they be unlucky enough to lose their soulmate, and suicides weren’t unheard of. 

Hell, he felt as though he had been ripped apart at Jim’s rejection, and they weren’t even bonded! 

At that moment, however, the ringing of his cell phone drew his attention, and, quickly scanning the caller ID, he shakily pressed the ‘receive’ button, already dreading what he was about to hear, knowing instinctively that it was news he had hoped would be many years in coming.  


\------------------------  


**The Loft, 852 Prospect, same afternoon:**  


Pushing open the door of #307, Jim dropped his gym bag beside the door, intending to empty it later, and headed over to his refrigerator where he snagged a beer. 

After leaving the PD, Jim had taken the opportunity to enjoy a prolonged work-out at the gym, knowing that the atmosphere and repetitive activity was, for him, most conducive to concentrating his mind on his turbulent emotions. Several hours later, he had come to the reluctant conclusion that his friend and captain, as well as virtually all his fellow detectives, had been right all along, and he had made an unholy mess of what should have been the most important decision of his life. 

Simon’s verbal ‘ass-kicking’, coupled with detailed recollection of similar sentiments from just about everyone in the PD who knew or cared about him forced the reluctant Sentinel to accept that Blair was indeed his intended Guide, and he had all but managed to single-handedly destroy any chance of reconciling with the desperately hurt young man, let alone actually bonding with him now. Deep within himself, he was ashamed to admit that he had deliberately used Blair’s disability against him as a poor excuse to push the young Guide away. Jim’s instinctive fear responses and trust issues were so deeply ingrained that he had become accustomed to use any means available to protect himself from disappointment and hurt, even though his senses sang in the young man’s presence, and his primal Sentinel demanded that he bond, and bond right now. 

Sinking down on the nearest sofa, Jim looked around him at his pristine, but oh, so Spartan apartment, and guiltily realised that he had never yet even invited the young profiler into his home. Sure, they had had a few meals out, usually during cases as ‘working lunches’, but he had never tried to progress their relationship despite all the signals the young man had sent him. He hadn’t even bothered to go along to most of the often spontaneous social occasions organised by his colleagues, who nearly always included Blair, their fondness for the young profiler only too obvious. 

Leaning his head back with a sigh, he was wondering just what, if anything, he could do to remedy the situation when he felt a sudden jolt, almost like a small electric shock run through him. Sitting up straight, he knew instinctively that something was wrong, and it had to do with his Guide; because yes, like it or not, that was what the young man should be. 

Setting down the beer, he decided that, rather than call Blair and risk being cut off before he could find out what was so very wrong - because the gods only knew Blair could hardly be expected to trust in his good intentions - he grabbed his jacket and car keys and headed out of the loft at a run, intending to get to his Guide as quickly as he could.  


\-------------------------------  


A short time later, having completed the journey much more quickly than dictated by safety, Jim pulled up outside Blair’s shabby apartment block and sprinted for the tiny unit’s front door. Rapping hard, he was taken aback when it opened immediately to reveal his young partner, white-faced and trembling, eyes wide with shock and clutching a hastily packed carry-on bag. 

Obviously surprised at the identity of his caller, he blinked rapidly in puzzlement before saying distractedly, “Jim! Wh what are you doing here? I I I was expecting the taxi! I’m sorry; I can’t stop and invite you in. Something’s come up, and I have to catch my flight to Santa Monica--” 

Reaching out to grip the shaking shoulders, Jim interrupted quickly, “It’s OK, Chief. I’ll take you. Don’t worry about a taxi if you have to get to the airport. Come on, let me help you.” 

And Blair was so shocky and bewildered that he allowed himself to be helped into the truck, bags and all, while Jim took his keys and locked the small apartment before climbing in himself. 

“Um, Jim, I should call the taxi firm. I I mean, they’ll expect me to be there....” 

“Don’t sweat it, Junior! I’ll call them. What’s their number?” 

When Blair handed over his cell phone, Jim swiftly checked the last dialled number, and called the cab company, cancelling the booking and starting up the truck, silently determined to accompany his Guide by hook or by crook even if it meant paying over the odds to get a seat on the same plane. 

During the short drive to the airport, Blair stared out of the side window, wringing his hands and biting his lip in obvious distress, so Jim refrained from questioning him for the moment, although he fully intended on getting the full story out the young man once they arrived. 

Pulling into the long-stay parking lot, Jim turned to his smaller companion and gently asked him which flight he was booked on. When Blair stammered out the information, Jim was silent for a moment, quickly planning the best course of action. 

Realising they only had a short time to wait, he said, “Shall I get you a wheelchair, Chief? It’s a fair distance to the departure lounge, and you shouldn’t overdo it. I can go grab one if you want, and meet you back here.” 

“Oh, um, OK, Jim. That is, if it’s not too much trouble. I...er...usually get dropped off next to the entrance. I’m sorry....” 

“No problem, Chief! Tell you what, if you start walking slowly towards the check in, I’ll snag a chair and meet you a.s.a.p, OK?” and he sprinted off, intending to grab the first wheelchair he saw, official or not. 

Within minutes he spotted his target, and before anyone even noticed, had acquired his prize and rushed back to where he found Blair, the smaller man struggling to make headway encumbered with his walking stick, laptop bag and carry-on. Settling the grateful young man comfortably in the chair, Jim set off for the departure lounge at a rapid clip, intending to get himself checked in. 

Once at the check-in desk, Blair looked on in total bemusement as Jim wheedled and cajoled his way onto the flight, flashing his PD credentials unashamedly as he convinced the desk clerk to find him a seat. Flushed with success, he turned back to Blair; boarding pass clutched in his hand, and grinned at the younger man. 

“OK, Chief. Let’s get through Security, then we can go and get a coffee. There’s just about time before the flight’s called.” 

Still puzzled, but too distracted to question the older man’s motives as yet, Blair simply nodded in compliance and allowed Jim to wheel him through Security, and then get them both settled at the air-side Starbucks, where he ordered a mocha latte for Blair and a tall Americano for himself. 

Placing the drinks down on the small table he said gently, “There you go, Chief. You look like you could do with a dose of decent caffeine right now.” 

Reaching over to squeeze Blair’s thigh beneath the concealing table, he urged the younger man to meet his eyes before continuing, “Now, babe, how about telling me why we’re off to Santa Monica? Not that I mind, you understand. It’s a great place even though it’s been a while since I was there last. But you must have a very pressing reason to be flying out in such a hurry, and I’d like for you to fill me in.” 

At Blair’s look of amazement and disbelief, he forged ahead doggedly. “I know what you’re thinking, babe, and before today you’d probably be right, but let’s just say that today in Simon’s office I had something of an epiphany. I’ve been a shit to you, and I really wish I could do something about that, but more importantly I know you’ve had a real shock, and I want to be here for you. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were sceptical, kiddo, but it’s true. I need to know what’s going on with you so I can help. How about it?” and he rubbed the tense muscles of the injured limb under his hand, sending nothing but thoughts of genuine care and support to the empath, and praying that the young man would ‘read’ him and discern his good intentions. 

After long moments, Blair gave a shuddering sigh, and gave himself up to the Sentinel, too tired and hurt to keep up the struggle to maintain his natural wariness, and wanting so much for the other man to be honest in his declaration. Taking a sip of his coffee in an attempt to get his thoughts in order, he set the cup back down and fixed wide and sorrowful eyes on the attentive face in front of him. 

Allowing the slightest glimmer of hope to shimmer in the blue depths, he began to speak, voice shaky and halting as he tried to talk round the lump in his throat which threatened to choke him. 

“Um, I had a call this afternoon, from a care facility in Santa Monica. It was about my Mom, Naomi,” and tears began to trickle down his cheeks again. 

Abruptly realising that this wasn’t the place after all to discuss something so very painful, Jim quickly held up his hand, softly patting the young man’s face as he said, “I’m sorry, Chief. I shouldn’t have asked you yet. You don’t have to tell me right now. Don’t get me wrong, I do want to hear everything, but there are too many nosy folks around. Let’s wait until we get on the plane, OK? Because I’ve managed to secure a seat next to yours, so we’ll have a bit more privacy, and I hope you’ll feel more able to explain everything to me then.” 

Blair nodded in compliance, deeply grateful for Jim’s understanding, and they finished their coffees in companionable if somewhat brooding silence, before making their way to the Gate where their flight was being called.  


\-------------------  


A short while later saw them on board the plane, Blair having made it under his own steam since Jim was carrying his bags for him. 

As they had secured a pair of seats together behind the bulkhead dividing business from cattle class, Jim had marginally more leg room, so he settled his smaller companion in the more private window seat, and took the aisle one for himself. 

Leaving Blair to his own thoughts until they were airborne, once the seatbelt signs were turned off, Jim raised the armrest between them so he could grasp Blair’s hand, encouraging the young man to turn and look at him as he said, “You OK to go on with the explanation now, Chief? I mean, I don’t want to force you, but I need to know how I can be the most help to you. It’s taken me long enough to admit it to myself, but you’re important to me, little one,” and he raised his other hand to gently stroke the soft skin of Blair’s cheek below his red-rimmed and tear-filled but still incredibly beautiful eyes. 

Touched by the tenderness in Jim’s unconsciously uttered endearment rather than affronted and emasculated, Blair relaxed minutely as he felt the genuine concern Jim was directing at him. Swallowing hard, the younger man leaned into the touch, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment before opening them again to gaze into the Sentinel’s own ice blue orbs, which now held nothing but love and care in their expression, coldness and habitual indifference completely absent. 

As their world shrank to the immediate area surrounding their two seats, Blair began to talk, at last able to share his fears and pain with the man with whom he so longed to share his very life and soul. 

Instinctively lowering his rather shaky voice to accommodate Sentinel hearing without leaving himself open to eavesdropping by their fellow passengers, Blair finally began to open up about his past. As grief and desolation forced him to reveal flashes of the ‘real’ Blair within him, trusting that the Sentinel wouldn’t use the knowledge to destroy him later, he told about his unorthodox childhood wandering the world with his mother Naomi. 

Sometimes glancing out of the window, sometimes staring fixedly at the bulkhead in front of him, and sometimes brave enough to meet Jim’s eyes, which were constantly full of love and understanding even though the empath in Blair could read the turmoil inside the other man, he explained how important education had become to him as a constant in an ever-changing environment, such that he had started at Rainier at age sixteen. 

Pausing only when the stewardess came round to offer soft drinks and coffee, he explained how enthralled he had been with anthropology and Sentinel Studies in particular, especially when testing revealed his Guide potential. 

Although he only briefly skated over his devastating accident on the South American field trip – and Jim didn’t push him, already having learned a fair bit about it from Eli Stoddard – he did explain how his Mom had come through for him and returned to nurse him through his recovery and physical therapy, and how they had reaffirmed their love for one another even after she left again. By this time quite unable to prevent continuous tears from streaming down his face, dripping off his chin as Jim supplied him with tissues and murmurs of comfort, he told of Naomi’s attack and how she had been left so badly brain damaged that she required constant care at the facility in Santa Monica. 

Understanding now without being told why the profiler had to live in such basic conditions, since it was obvious that he was using the best part of his income to subsidise his mother’s care, Jim wanted nothing more than to take the young man into his arms to hold and protect him forever. 

Resigned instead to stroking the soft skin on the back of the smaller hand gripping his in tiny, comforting circles, Jim spoke softly. 

“So I guess that’s the main reason you changed your doctoral subject to Forensic Psychology and profiling, then Chief? Added to the accident, I can surely see you would want to. Did they ever get the bastard who attacked your Mom?” 

Head down as he stared at his lap, Blair shook his head. “No, they never did,” he whispered. 

“And now he’s killed her!” and, gulping convulsively, he told Jim about the phone call. 

“The Director said she was the same as always – happy enough in her way – but last night she had some sort of unexpected stroke. A big one. And now she’s in a deep coma, and they don’t expect her to wake up!” and his shoulders shook as he sobbed quietly, free hand pressed to his mouth in an effort to stifle his cries. 

However, just as Jim was about to pull the young man in for a hug, other passengers’ precious sensibilities be damned, the seatbelt sign came on as the Captain announced that the short flight was nearly over, and to prepare for landing. 

Having to settle for taking Blair’s hands in his larger ones, Jim held on tight, uncomplaining when the smaller man turned slightly in his seat to lean his forehead into Jim’s shoulder, desperately trying to control his tears.  


\-------------------------------  


Once on the ground, Jim managed to get them disembarked and clear of the airport in double-quick time, unashamedly using his superior strength and intimidating glare to clear the way and uncaring of odd looks and undisguised interest or disgust as he hurried Blair out of the terminal. 

Once outside the main entrance, a uniformed driver approached them, holding out his hand for Blair’s bags as he addressed him deferentially. “Dr Sandburg! I’m so sorry to see you again under these circumstances. Director James has a room ready for you, which of course you can share with your friend if you wish. But he asks that you come straight to the hospice, because we feel Naomi doesn’t have long.” 

Realising that this was a regular arrangement, Jim smiled slightly as he handed over the luggage and took it upon himself to speak for them both. “I’m sure Blair appreciates everything you’ve done for him, but I don’t think he’s up to answering you just yet. I’m Detective Ellison, by the way: Blair’s partner at Cascade PD. And his Sentinel,” he added, with just a hint of uncharacteristic uncertainty at the declaration. 

Shaking himself briefly out of his preoccupation, Blair murmured, “I’m sorry, Jim. Er...Jim Ellison, this is Max Leroy. He’s had to put up with driving me around on many occasions,” and he offered a tiny grin as the smart African American driver smiled back. 

“No problem, Dr Sandburg! I don’t think anyone would hold it against you if you ignored the lot of us!” 

Turning to Jim, he continued, “Pleased to meet you, Detective, and I’m glad to see that Dr Sandburg has someone to support him right now. 

“Now, let’s get you both settled, and we’ll go straight to Morningside,” and he held open the limousine’s rear door for them before stowing the bags in the trunk, and making short work of pulling away into the traffic and setting off for the hospice. 

Once seated comfortably in the back seat, Jim made no bones about throwing his arm around Blair’s shoulders so he could pull the unresisting body into his side for a comforting hug, something he had been wanting to do ever since they got on the plane. 

“You holding up OK, Chief?” he enquired softly. “Just remember that, however I’ve acted in the past, I’m here for you now, baby. And feel free to ‘read’ me so’s you know I’m not trying to trick you.” 

And he felt Blair’s nod of acceptance against his shoulder as they both sat back to pass the remainder of the short drive in contemplative silence, Max respecting their privacy as he negotiated the traffic with ease.  


\-------------------------  


Night was already falling by the time they arrived at their destination, although the temperature outside was still pleasantly mild and comfortable if the pair were of a mind to notice. On drawing up outside a large and impressive two storey house set in its own beautifully maintained grounds, Blair and Jim climbed out of the limousine to be greeted by the Director himself, who hurried forwards with a frown of genuine concern on his face. 

Holding his hand out to take Blair’s free one in both of his own he said, “I’m so glad you could make it, Blair. Naomi is still with us, but I’m afraid time is short, so if you’d like to come with me?” and he included Jim in the enquiry, since it was obvious to him that the bigger man was almost half-carrying his young friend, Blair being so very shaky and trying so hard to hold it together for a while longer. 

Leaving Max to take care of Blair’s bags, they followed Director James into the cool reception area, and then on through a locked security door and into a light, airy corridor which was tastefully decorated with pleasant paintings and fresh flowers, more in keeping with a comfortable private home than a care facility. 

However, Jim was more concerned with his partner’s welfare than with gazing around in admiration, and he tightened his grip a little around Blair’s shoulders as the Director opened a door about halfway down the corridor. 

Breath hitching, and biting his lip in worry and grief, Blair pulled himself out of Jim’s supportive hold as he limped unsteadily towards the still figure lying on the bed in the corner of the pretty room. Sinking down onto the chair beside the bed and dropping his walking stick carelessly beside him, Blair reached out a shaking hand and took his mother’s pale, thin one in his own. 

As Jim and Director James watched silently from the doorway, concern etched on both their faces, Blair raised his free hand to gently place his palm on the smooth brow before petting the thin, greying hair in careful strokes. 

“Oh Mom!” he whispered. “It’s too soon, Mom! I’m not ready for you to go yet. You were supposed to have years yet. Years in which to get better and come back to me. 

“I’m so sorry, Naomi, for all that lost time when you should have been travelling and making everyone’s lives just that bit happier for knowing you. It’s so not fair, Mom,” and he lowered his head onto the pillow beside the peaceful face, and sobbed in his heartbreak. 

From Jim’s vantage point, he quickly scanned their immediate surroundings, and then was able to concentrate his senses on the woman lying so still on the bed. 

The room itself was painted in a pale lilac, with flowered curtains pulled closed against the night, and soft, cream carpeting. Muted light from two or three lamps bathed the area rather than the harsher overhead ceiling lights, creating a calmer and gentler atmosphere, and softening the sharp angles on Naomi’s sleeping face. The furniture was of good quality, not institution plywood, and the knick-knacks and ornaments were plainly the occupant’s own. Several framed photographs showed a slender, very attractive and vital-looking redhead, usually accompanied by a grinning curly-haired boy at varying ages and in very different locations. Mother and son invariably looked happy and in harmony with each other as they either smiled at each other or at the camera. 

Ruefully realising that the woman here couldn’t have been more than in her mid-forties, the thinning hair, no longer a vibrant red, and her extreme slenderness gave her the appearance of a much older woman, despite the fact that her face remained smooth and unlined in repose. Her skin looked so fine and tightly drawn over the slender bones it was almost translucent, and her manicured hands were crisscrossed with the blue network of veins showing clearly from beneath the surface. 

Sentinel senses heard the slow but rhythmic beat of her heart, and the rather sluggish rush of blood through her veins, but to him they were the sounds of an otherwise healthy sleeper, and gave no hint as to what activity was going on inside her head. 

Several long minutes later, however, Jim raised his head in puzzlement as he made out the faint but distinct sounds of a body rousing from slumber, and, although he kept his thoughts to himself for the moment, not wanting to give Blair false hope, he himself prayed to whoever might hear that Naomi was really waking up. 

Even as the empath in Blair belatedly picked up on Jim’s unspoken excitement and raised his head to look enquiringly at his partner, a movement on the pillow caused him to gasp in amazement as his Mom blinked several times and slowly turned her head to gaze at her son. 

As Blair held his breath in hope, for the first time in six years there was a spark of understanding and recognition in her dreamy eyes, and she actually smiled very slightly and whispered one word on the faintest puff of breath. 

“Blair...!” and with a soft sigh of contentment, her eyes closed again and her breathing evened out and slowed, and her spirit brushed her son with a gentle touch as she passed. 

For a second, Blair was unable to comprehend what had happened, as he was suddenly brought crashing down from the highest hopes to the depths of despair. 

Staring at the peaceful but already lifeless face of his mother, he wailed in agony. 

“No! Nooooooo! Mom, noooooo! Come back! You have to come baaaaaccckkk!” and he threw himself across the body, fresh tears soaking the delicate cotton of Naomi’s nightdress as his heart broke again. 

Jim threw himself forwards, and, acting purely on instinct, gathered up the slight figure and held him tight in his powerful arms, kneeling beside the bed with Blair cuddled in his lap and rocking the distraught young man for what seemed like an eternity before the heart-wrenching sobs slowly began to subside. 

Seeing that Blair was in good hands for the moment, Director James slipped out of the room and quickly paged his resident physician who had been waiting on standby for a few hours now. 

“Doctor Sorenson. It’s Michael James here. I’m afraid Naomi has passed away. Can you come now?” and he nodded sadly to himself as he heard the man’s affirmative before ending the call.  


\---------------------------  


The next few hours passed in a blur for Jim and Blair, but for different reasons. 

Dr Sorenson, after checking on Naomi as necessary to confirm time of death, had been concerned enough about Blair’s extreme distress that he was tempted to administer a sedative. However, once the distraught crying fit had passed, the young man rested limply in Jim’s arms, as silent now as if he had been turned off with the flick of a switch. 

When Jim tilted the downcast head up to look worriedly into his partner’s eyes, he was perplexed at the lack of expression in the clouded blue depths. It was as if a vital spark had been extinguished and the final burst of frenetic energy which had kept the young man on his feet and holding himself together had drained away completely, leaving an empty shell in its wake. 

Assessing the young man with an experienced eye, Dr Sorenson now declared that he thought it would be a good idea to check Blair over, as he didn’t like what he saw of either the profiler’s physical condition or his mental state. 

Nodding in agreement, since he had felt for himself the painful evidence of excessive weight loss in the slender frame cuddled in his arms, Jim helped the smaller man to his feet, retrieving the walking stick, and gently encouraged Blair to accompany him to Dr Sorenson’s room, leaving Director James to arrange for Naomi’s laying out. 

Once in the doctor’s office, Blair obediently complied with his request to sit on the examination table, allowing Jim to help him undress to his boxers without complaint, or, indeed, any word at all, as if he had shut down to such an extent with exhaustion and stress that he was unwilling or unable to make any further decisions on his own behalf, but turned over complete control of himself to Jim. 

For Jim, the examination was a revelation which both worried him and exacerbated his already hefty burden of guilt, as he was honest enough to admit that much of the profiler’s poor condition was directly due to him and his past treatment of the young man. Faced with the irrefutable proof of Simon’s assertion that the young would-be Guide had failed to thrive whilst partnered with the irascible Sentinel; Jim’s heart clenched in grief as he noted the bony frame and the excessive pallor of the beautiful face, which now bore the deeply-etched signs of bitter pain. Dull blue eyes too big for the thin face, with cheekbones made sharply prominent by the sunken cheeks, previously unnoticed lines of stress were now apparent around eyes and mouth as the profiler seemed to have aged ten years over the past few hours. 

Even worse as far as Jim was concerned was his first view of the injured limb, and Jim cringed inwardly at the latticework of silvery scarring the complex surgical procedures had unavoidably left in their wake. Slightly twisted inwards due to the damaged hip joint, Blair’s thigh had obviously been badly broken by the impact against the rock face, as had the tibia a few inches above the ankle, and Jim was certain that metal plates or pins had had to be inserted in both areas. More scarring from stitches encircling the knee bore witness to damage there also, such that Jim was in awe of both the sheer extent of the surgery involved and also of its ultimate success in managing to actually save the limb, let alone allow the young man to walk to the extent that he could. 

Maintaining his silence while the doctor completed his check up, and then helping Blair to dress, murmuring soft words of encouragement which Blair gave no indication of registering, Jim finally sat next to his unresisting partner to hear what Dr Sorenson had to say. 

Pursing his lips in consternation, Sorenson gazed for a moment longer at Blair before turning his attention on Jim. 

“Detective Ellison. I understand from Director James that you have been partnering Dr Sandburg recently, am I right?” 

At Jim’s nod of agreement, he continued. 

“If I may be candid, may I ask to what extent your relationship goes? I mean, had you noticed Blair’s overall decline in health, and, in particular, his weight loss, because I have to say that I’ve gotten to know Dr Sandburg reasonably well in the years since his mother has been in our care, and this rapid debilitation is extremely worrying.” 

Frowning at the doctor’s words, and glancing from Blair’s motionless figure back to Sorenson, Jim heaved a sigh as he prepared to answer as honestly as he could, knowing his partner deserved no less. Ruthlessly stamping down on his instinctive tendency for denial, Jim finally accepted that this wasn’t about him, and for once he needed to put his partner’s concerns ahead of his own. 

With no little sense of shame, he explained how Blair had been almost thrust upon him because of his proven ability both as profiler and Guide in order to help settle Jim’s uncontrollable senses. 

He admitted that he was given no option if he was to keep his job, and he had accepted only with bad grace on those grounds, and had steadfastly, and selfishly refused to claim and bond with the young empath. 

He also admitted that Blair had consistently done his best, despite being snubbed and belittled at almost every turn, and described how, just before Blair had received the news about his mother, they had literally been on the point of being split up. 

With total honesty, he said that in hindsight he should, as a Sentinel, have been aware of Blair’s despair and its manifestation in physical form, and indeed, perhaps he had been, but simply chose to ignore it. 

In his defence, however, he could also admit to finally seeing the light, and he explained how, even before he had rushed over to Blair’s apartment in response to his partner’s distress, he had decided to accept the young man as his bonded Guide if the offer was still open. 

As his explanation wound down, he met and held Dr Sorenson’s assessing gaze as he concluded, “Well, there you have it Doctor. I have no excuse for my behaviour unless it be described in terms that Blair would define as ‘fear-based responses’, I guess. 

“I believe now that he wouldn’t be in this condition had we bonded, as he would have had me to support and protect him instead of struggling on his own, but, since I can’t fix the past, what can I do to help him now? Because I freely admit he’s important to me, and not just as a Guide. I’ve denied my attraction to him for too long, and I can honestly say I’m ready to bond with him in the fullest sense of the word. I’m just frightened that I’ve left it too late.” 

Sitting back, he took hold of one of Blair’s lax hands in his own, and waited anxiously for the doctor’s opinion. 

After taking a while longer to fully digest Jim’s information and consider his response, Dr Sorenson met Jim’s direct gaze with an assessing one of his own. 

“Firstly, Sentinel Ellison, I’d like to thank you for your honesty. It can’t have been easy for you to come to terms with all that you’ve told me about yourself and your reactions to Dr Sandburg. The mere fact that you are prepared to admit to your part in the problems between you gives me hope that the situation may not yet be beyond remedy. 

“You’re correct in saying that being bonded would have given Blair a great deal of support under such difficult circumstances, and it’s also very likely that his physical condition wouldn’t now be so worrisome. 

“And do I understand correctly that you are now prepared to bond fully, given the opportunity?” 

Jim’s immediate nod of acquiescence reassured him, and on hearing the fervently spoken reply of, “Yes, indeed, Dr Sorenson. As soon as Blair agrees, that is....” Sorenson nodded thoughtfully and continued. 

“As to his agreement, Sentinel, I firmly believe that bonding with you is his deepest desire if my most recent conversations with Dr Sandburg are anything to go by. I think that anyone who knows that young man even slightly could tell that he loves you very much. 

“I’m going to suggest that you take him back to the room Director James has had prepared for you, and see if you can get him settled. It’s very late, and he’s had a long and stressful day. 

“And after that, Sentinel, I think that it will be up to you how things progress. Even if you are unsuccessful at this time in your offer to bond, I believe that at least you won’t harm the young man further, and he certainly needs someone with him now. Despite everything, I believe he still trusts you, or, at least, truly wants to. 

“Good luck, Jim, and don’t let _me_ regret _my_ trust in you,” and he stood to usher the pair from the room.  


\----------------------------------  


A short while afterwards they entered the room prepared for them in the guest wing of the facility, Jim pushing his exhausted and still silent and introspective partner in the wheelchair thoughtfully provided by Dr Sorenson. Glancing around, Jim could see that Blair’s small carry-on bag had been delivered and unpacked, and his laptop bag rested on the desk in the corner of the comfortably furnished suite, which boasted a queen-sized bed and a good-sized en suite shower room. Jim couldn’t quite refrain from smiling a little wryly as he considered that it sure beat Blair’s own unit back in Cascade for comfort and mod cons. 

Pushing the chair right up to the bedside, he gently took Blair’s arm and half lifted him to his feet before turning the quiescent empath and lowering him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Silently contemplating the down-bent head for a moment, Jim said, “Will you be OK for a moment while I check out the bathroom, Chief?” although he hardly expected a verbal response, if any. 

He was therefore taken completely by surprise when he heard the barely-whispered words. 

“Did you mean it?” 

Dropping to his knees in front of the small, hunched figure, he gently raised the sorrowful face with a finger under the chin. 

“What did you say, baby? Talk to me, sweetheart!” and he gazed urgently into the moist blue eyes which seemed to meet his only with difficulty. 

“Um, I said, did you mean it? You really would bond with me?” and the desperate hope in the tiny voice nearly broke Jim’s heart. 

“Yes, baby! I meant it. Every word, little one. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass and admit that I want – and need – you for my Guide. I love you, Blair Sandburg. 

“All this time I’ve been fighting the inevitable, and hurting you so much along the way. Can you ever forgive me, sweetheart?” 

As he held Blair’s wide-eyed gaze, waiting and hoping for the young man’s blessing, he was amazed and relieved to the core of his being at the tiny spark of hope and love which kindled in the beautiful blue depths. 

“Yes, Jim,” he whispered. “If you can forgive me for being such a disappointment. I know I’m not what you wanted or expected, and I would understand if you’re only doing this because you’ve been backed into a corner. 

“I’ll try not to be too demanding, I promise--” 

“I’ll be disappointed if you’re _not_ demanding!” answered Jim gently but firmly. “You’re everything I need, baby. Everything! I was just too stubborn to admit it. 

“Now, can I help you to the bathroom, Chief, or do you want to get straight into bed? You’re really wiped, kiddo!” 

Ducking his head shyly again, Blair replied, “Um, yes, if you don’t mind, Jim. I’d better ‘go’ before I get into bed. Sorry to be a nuisance again--” 

“Oh no you don’t, baby! You’re no nuisance. Anyone who has had a shock like you’ve had should be pampered a bit. Now, can you stand OK? Or shall we use the chair again?” 

“I’m sorry, but I think I’d better use the chair. It’s either that, or risk a face-plant on the rug,” replied Blair with a brave attempt at humour. 

“Your chariot awaits then,” responded Jim with a grin, and, once Blair was seated comfortably, he manoeuvred his soon-to-be Guide to the bathroom. 

While Blair was occupied, he quickly turned back the comforter, and plumped up the pillows, hoping he wasn’t being too forward in expecting the young man to let him share the bed. 

Once Blair had wheeled himself back to the bed, Jim helped him sit again on the edge of the comfy mattress and matter-of-factly removed the young man’s shoes and socks, absently noting that one of the socks had a hole in the heel. 

“Can I help you with the rest, baby?” he asked hopefully, but not wanting to push the young man too hard too soon. 

“Yes, please, if you don’t mind. I just can’t seem to get the energy to move.” 

“No problem, kiddo!” responded Jim with an understanding smile. “Let’s get you comfortable...” and he carefully eased off all Blair’s clothing down to his boxers and tee. 

Dropping a completely spontaneous kiss on the broad brow, Jim lifted his partner’s legs and swung them carefully round until Blair was lying comfortably, then pulled up the bedding to cover the too-thin body. 

“I’m going to use the bathroom, Chief, then I’ll join you...if that’s OK with you?” he added, hoping he wasn’t jumping the gun. 

Receiving a small smile and whispered, “Yes, please, Jim,” in answer, his grin widened and he hurried to use the facilities before returning to strip off his own clothing as quickly as possible, leaving only his boxers in place, as he didn’t want to put any pressure on his young bedmate yet. 

As he lifted the bedcovers, he said, “OK if I sleep on the outside, Chief? I guess it’s a Sentinel thing, but I like to be near the door – and I’d prefer you were safely tucked in behind me!” he finished with a chuckle. Blair nodded understandingly, and scooted over towards the wall as quickly as he could, before Jim threw an arm across him to halt his progress. 

“Not too far over, little one!” he murmured. “I’d like it if we could cuddle a bit...” and he was gratified when Blair scooted back again and moved into his waiting arms, tucking his face into Jim’s neck. 

Holding and gently stroking the warm bundle in his arms, Jim carefully allowed his senses to imprint the beautiful young man, although he knew only too well that it was too soon to make a move on him just yet. The enticing scent was still soured by deep sorrow, and the slight frame trembled now and then as Blair fought to control his turbulent emotions. 

“It’s OK to let go, Chief,” he whispered. “Just let it out. You’re entitled to a melt-down or two, baby, so just let me hold you through it....” 

And Blair took him at his word, and sobbed anew at his loss, although deep down he realised now that he wasn’t going to be alone or lonely anymore, and that knowledge comforted him no end as he eventually cried himself to sleep.  


\--------------------------------  


Several hours of much-needed sleep later, Jim awoke to the sight of narrow bands of bright sunshine entering the room from around the edges of the curtains, and he immediately glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand next to him to find that it was just before 7.00 am. 

Deciding that they could safely take a while longer to enable Blair to catch up on bit more quality rest, he peered down at the young man in question, who was half lying on top of him, head resting on his chest as he snuggled in the Sentinel’s arms. 

Smiling softly at the sight, and struck by the myriad shades of colour in Blair’s unruly curls which were highlighted by the narrow sunbeam from the window, he raised one hand to gently card the silky tresses, thinking absently about one of the photos Dr Stoddard had shown him of Blair in his undergrad days, when he had worn his hair down to his shoulders. Although still far from a buzz cut, Blair now wore it significantly shorter in view of his position at the PD, although there was still plenty of curl left to frame his face. 

Privately Jim considered that it would be no bad thing if his partner was to grow it out again, because it would give Jim even more to play with. On the other hand, he also liked to see the long, elegant neck which he was so looking forward to nuzzling and tasting, so he couldn’t have it both ways. 

Fully tuned in to the smaller body blanketing him, Jim felt the tickle of fluttering lashes against his chest, and heard the slight increase in heartbeat that signalled Blair’s gradual awakening. He was therefore already grinning when the young man raised his head to peer myopically up into Jim’s face, huge blue eyes almost crossed in frowning concentration as he took stock of his unorthodox but very comfortable pillow. 

Hair sticking out crazily thanks to Jim’s carding, and pale face sporting dark morning stubble, he looked impossibly cute to Jim’s eyes, and the bigger man couldn’t help but snicker as Blair pulled back a little to get into focus. 

“Morning, Sunshine! How’re you feeling, love?” 

Plainly not quite with it just yet, his smaller partner considered his reply for a moment longer before saying, “Um, OK, I think. I don’t remember conking out, and I didn’t dream – well, not that I can recall, anyway. Did you sleep all right, Jim? I mean, did I lie on top of you all night? You must be so fed up with me!” and he made to slide off the powerful body. 

“Oh no you don’t, little one!” replied Jim, wrapping his arms around the slender waist and shoulders to arrest the movement. 

“I’m very comfortable, thank you, and I don’t want to be rid of my extra blanket yet! How about cuddling a bit more, eh?” and he grinned sappily when Blair’s face lit up with relief and love as he sank back down into the warm embrace. 

However, it wasn’t too long before Blair registered Jim’s impressive morning erection branding his thigh, and he raised his head again to peer quizzically at the smug face of the older man. 

“Um, Jim? Does this mean what I think it does, Jim? Because much as I’d love to accept what I hope you’re offering, I need to tell you that I won’t hold you to your promise, man. 

“I mean, if you really want me, I’m so there, Jim, but please don’t feel you have to bond with me just out of pity. I don’t think I could bear that...” and he looked down again, nervously awaiting his Sentinel’s answer, and not knowing what the hell he would do if on reflection, Jim had changed his mind. 

“Oh, sweetheart! I’m so sorry I’ve been such a miserable SOB over the last few weeks that you feel as if you have to confirm everything I say! I know it’s not your fault, and I can’t blame you for being anxious when it comes down to anything I have to tell you, so all I’ll say for now is that yes, I want – need – to bond with you, and if you’re game, it would give me the greatest satisfaction to do so right now. Would you be OK with that, lover?” 

And he was immensely satisfied when Blair smiled a little shyly up at him and replied, “Oh, Jim! Yes, please, Sentinel! Please make me yours for always...” and he pulled himself up Jim’s powerful body enough to press his lips to Jim’s in a shy but loving kiss. 

Gratefully savouring the luscious lips and intoxicating taste of his Guide, Jim carefully took control of the kiss, and, rolling them over, blanketed the slender body with his own, but all the while careful to keep any pressure off of Blair’s damaged leg. 

“Let me map you, baby! I need to imprint you fully, my Guide!” and he was more than happy when Blair nodded his agreement, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. 

Long minutes later, Blair was positively purring and writhing under Jim’s thorough but gentle ministrations, such that, when he finally took the young man’s length into his mouth, Blair nearly leapt off the bed at the sensation, crying, “Oh Jim! Oh man! So good! But are you OK? Man, I’m so close...!” 

Raising his head briefly and letting go his prize for the shortest amount of time Jim replied smugly, “You’d better believe it, baby! Let go, and enjoy!” and he swallowed the hot length again, smirking as Blair sobbed in pleasure just before coming like a train, clutching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip as he rode out the waves of intense and wonderful sensations. 

Even as Jim reached his own climax, purely through the stimulation of the love and gratitude he felt from being able to finally sample Blair’s sweet body, and making it his own, the bond sang between them bright and pure, and Sentinel and Guide became as one at last.  


\------------------  


**Epilogue:**  


A few days later saw a small private party of friends and a few staff members from the hospice gather together around the large and shady tree in the gardens beneath which Naomi had loved to sit. 

Following a surprisingly well-attended, non-denominational public service in celebration of Naomi’s life, Blair had sought and been granted permission to bury his mother’s ashes in what he felt was an appropriate place, and, supported by Jim, he knelt slowly to place the small box in the already-dug hole. 

Although his face was damp with silent tears which he couldn’t contain, he smiled gently as he whispered his farewells to his Mom, knowing that wherever she now was, she would approve of his choice of a fully-biodegradable container, having been so very involved in the ‘green’ movement for so many years before her injury. 

He was also certain that she would approve of his new lover and Sentinel, despite the fact he was a cop, fondly recalling the occasions when his otherwise laid-back and calm Mom would lose her cool when describing a few less-than-amicable altercations with the ‘pigs’ in her radical youth. 

Placing a single rose on top of the box, he trickled a handful of soil over it, then, rising to his feet rather stiffly with Jim’s help, he stood back to let his lover copy his actions, followed by the rest of the party. After each person had stepped forwards in turn, they moved to where Jim supported his Guide with a strong arm about the young man’s waist, there to either hug or kiss Blair and murmur a few words of condolence and to receive his grateful and dignified responses. 

When everyone had paid their respects and all but Jim and Blair had left the scene, the gardener stepped forwards, and carefully filled in the hole and replaced the turf, knowing that he would return in the morning to place a simple plaque there in Naomi’s memory. 

Thanking the man once he had completed his task, Blair stepped forwards once again, squeezing Jim’s hand in indication that he wanted a few moments more alone with his Mom, and comfortable in the knowledge that Jim understood his need, and wasn’t upset at all as the Sentinel stood guard over the most important person in his life. 

As Blair stood in silent communion with his Mom, Jim took the opportunity to recall the events and emotions of the last few days. 

Although they had yet to progress their sexual activity to actual penetration, on account of Blair’s physical and emotional fragility, they had indulged in gentle acts of mutual stimulation such that the bond was set, and Blair in particular at this time benefitted from his Sentinel’s support and understanding. 

Jim had taken it upon himself to contact both the PD and Rainier to explain their absence and secure a few days’ leave on compassionate grounds, and had supported Blair all the way during the necessary autopsy and resulting decision regarding probable cause of death. As both Jim and Blair had suspected, it was finally determined that Naomi’s last fatal stroke had its roots in her original injuries, even though it was unexpected and undetected at the time, through no fault of the nursing staff. 

As for the almost incredible instance of lucidity and recognition of her son immediately prior to her passing, that remained inexplicable, and was simply accepted – by Jim and Blair at least – as a minor miracle for which the young profiler would always be deeply grateful. 

Watching over his new Guide with an indulgent and fond gaze, Jim was already planning as to how he would convince the young man to come and live with him at the loft, carefully considering the changes he would happily make to render the place more accessible and user-friendly for the partially disabled man. Nevertheless, he was also content in the knowledge that, should it turn out ultimately to be totally impracticable, he and Blair would be united in finding and acquiring a place where they could both be happy and comfortable. 

He hadn’t yet broached the subject of his possible retirement from the PD in order to pursue a potentially less dangerous career in private investigation, already anticipating his young lover’s arguments, but also slightly smug in his belief that he could persuade the profiler as to the benefits of such a decision. 

As Blair turned to face him once again, cheeks still damp with tears, but so much calmer now and secure in the knowledge that Jim was there for him all the way, the young man smiled softly and moved into his big lover’s welcoming arms, content to let the future take care of itself as long as they could face it together.  


**The End.**


End file.
